Jim shrugged his broad shoulders.
"Harry and me, we do the bedding-down between us," he said rather sheepishly, "run and get your nightie, boy."
Then as Harry trotted off, he added in a lower tone, "She won't do nothing for him, so I have to. It's no use arguing over everything and so——"
Tom nodded. "So you have to be father and mother both," he said. "He's more of a little 'un than I expected, but he's a dear little 'un. I've right down enjoyed myself this evening."
The two men between them undressed Harry and superintended his prayers, and tucked him into his bed, and then they sat by the open window and chatted in low tones till the sound of their voices had lulled Harry to sleep, and then at last Tom rose and said he must be going. He went over to the cot and stood looking down on the little sleeping face, with its regular features, its long lashes lying on the bright cheeks, and its crown of tumbled golden hair.
"He's like the pictures of the angels," he said regretfully, "if Pattie and I had had our little home, we'd have loved to let him stay with us a bit, but I'll come in on Saturday and take him on the river, if you'll let me. It seems so long since I had anybody to go out with."
"Poor old Tom," said Jim affectionately, "it's cut you very hard, but I always believe it will come all right, you know!"
"Pooh!" said an unexpected voice behind them, "you would always believe anything silly, Jim Adams! Come right, indeed! Very likely! You just wait till I have seen Miss Pattie Paul again."
"Have you seen her?" asked Tom in a curiously quiet tone. He had gone very pale, but his face was in shadow and Jane did not perceive it or anything peculiar in his voice.
"Ha!" she cried vaingloriously, "I have! I let her know what I thought of her—mean little cat."