A crowd had gathered, and some among them were able to identify the dead man as a confirmed, worthless sot from a neighboring town, one of the many thousand wretched victims of King Alcohol.
At last all was over, a verdict rendered in accordance with the facts, the corpse removed, the crowd scattered, and poor, weary Mildred carried home by her anxious husband to a mother and sisters scarcely less solicitous on her account.
CHAPTER V.
“A babe in the house is a wellspring of pleasure.”
—Tupper.
Spring and summer had waxed and waned and the gorgeous October hues were again upon tree and shrub, its soft mellow haze everywhere, on prairie, forest, town, and river.
Annis was not ill-pleased to be sent on an errand that gave her a long walk in the sweet, bracing morning air.
She came hurrying home in almost breathless excitement, rushed upstairs, and in at Mildred’s half-open door.
“O Milly! what do you think? I—”
But Mildred held up a warning finger.