“He’ll fall on the stove here in the morning,� remarked the doctor.
The woman shut her mouth.
“Zeb’s drunk,� the old man added.
“I won’t take him,� she said flatly; “if I do, nobody’ll take him away. It’s the same with a baby as it is with a stray kitten, once you take it you keep it. I ain’t goin’ to take Jean Bartlett’s brat.�
“Don’t!� snapped the doctor, “for of such is the kingdom of heaven!�
Then he went out, turning his collar up again to his ears. “I’m going for the undertaker, Caleb.�
They stopped as he spoke and looked down at Jean’s boy. He lay with his arm across his face; he had not been undressed and one foot hung pendent in a forlorn and heelless shoe.
“The end of the drama,� commented the doctor dryly, “the sufferer.�
Caleb stooped down and gently lifted the sleeping child; he wrapped the old quilt about him, and bore him to the door. The doctor followed, then he reached over and put his hand on the latch.
“What are you doing?� he asked sharply.