"Honey, I don't want ter skeer yer, but dis death will happen ter make trouble lessen I could bury de baby private like without anybuddy knowing. Is you willin' to trust me?"
Flower only repeated, anxiously:
"Trouble?"
Then Poky went on to explain that if the secret they had been keeping became known it might be suspected that they had murdered the baby to get rid of it.
"I—murder my little, brown-eyed boy—my precious Douglas!" the young mother cried, indignantly; but Poky persisted, adding, gravely:
"Miss Jewel Fielding would egg them on, you know, chile, and so I think you'd better run away now and leabe me to bury de poor baby."
[CHAPTER XXVI.]
It seemed terrible to poor Flower to leave her little one to be consigned to an unknown grave by this humble friend; but Poky's good counsel prevailed at last, and with one last kiss on the lovely little face, she stole away in the rough disguise Poky had provided for her, and began her battle with the cold world.
Poky had generously bestowed on her a little money, and with this she made her way to the little Southern town where she had been born, determined to learn something of her mother's history, and also believing that she might make an humble living here better than among the human wolves of a great city.