"But, mom, I won't hurt her. Can't I just stay an' work, an' wash dishes, an' such things? I wouldn't mind washin' dishes"—Mary smiled wanly—"like I once did."
"An' then there's Etta," said the mother, still busied in her own confusion. "She's got a baby——"
"A baby!" Mary's heart leaped.
"Such a lovely baby girl——"
"Can't I——? Oh, mom, can't I just get a peep at it?"
"How could you?—An' we have to think what it'd be for her if you was here an' she growed up."
The prodigal choked with tears.
"Mom, mom!" she pleaded. "How'd I hurt 'em? You don't think I'd——?"
"The town'd think so, an' the town'd tell 'em so, too. An' anyways, Mary, we're poor, we're dreadful poor. The mill was shut down all summer an' fall. It's only just started a'ready, an' it's only workin' half-time now. We ain't had money fer months still, an' now it all goes fer old bills. We couldn't do it, even if we wanted to."
For half an hour more Mary begged, but she begged in vain; and though the mother ended by another attack of tears, and though the two wept together in each other's arms, they knew that they were together for the last time.