Mehetabel made no reply, and the widow buried herself in preparation for the midday meal, a very humble one of bread and weak tea.
"There's drippin' in the bowl," she said, "you can put some o' that on the bread. And now, give me the little chap. You are not afraid of trusting him to me?"
"Oh, no!"
The mother at once surrendered the child, and Mrs. Chivers sat by the fire with the infant in her lap.
"He's very like you," she said.
"I couldn't love him if he were like him," said Mehetabel.
"You must not say that."
"He is a bad man."
"Leave God to judge him."
"He has judged him," answered the girl, looking vacantly into the fire, and then passed her hand over her eyes and pressed her brow.