He stooped and kissed her.
"It's a little girl, and it looks like you. It does truly."
He stroked her forehead again, but did not speak.
She roused herself and turned her head toward the dark corner of the room. "Bring it to me, mammy!" she called.
The old woman walked to the cradle and made as though to lift a child from the blankets, but her arms were empty.
"Bring it to me!"
"Lillias!" her father was at her side where she sat erect staring at the cradle. "Lillias, darling, your mother thought it best."
"Bring it to me!"
The old woman drew aside the blankets and showed an empty bed. "Chile," she moaned, "dis ain't my work."
There was a long silence; then the girl sank back in the sheets and turned toward the window. "You might have let me kiss it good-by," she said.