"So am I, acushla," he said; after a pause he whispered, "yer a good wee girl, Pearlie," but Pearl's tired little eyes had closed in sleep.
Mrs. Watson laid more wood on the fire, which crackled merrily up the chimney.
"Lay her down, John dear," she whispered. "Yer arms'll ache, man."
On the back of the stove the teakettle simmered drowsily. There was no sound in the house but the regular breathing of the sleeping children. The fire burned low, but John Watson still sat holding his little sleeping girl in his arms. Outside the snow was beginning to fall.
CONCLUSION
CONVINCING CAMILLA
"If you can convince me, Jim, that you are more irresponsible and more in need of a guiding hand than Mrs. Francis—why then I'll—I'll be—"
Jim sprang from his chair.
"You'll be what, Camilla? Tell me quick," he cried eagerly.