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At the word "baby," Lon dragged his heavy hand backward across his eyes. "The baby," continued the governor, "was no bigger than this, a wee bit of a girl, such as all big men love to father." The squatter stood rigidly up against the wall, until his head almost reached the ceiling. His fierce eyes centered themselves upon Vandecar.
"Yep, tonight." "Why don't ye take just one? It'd make 'em sit up and note a bit to crib, say, the boy." "We'll take 'em both," replied Lon decisively. "And if we get caught?" stammered Crabbe. "We don't get caught," assured Lon darkly, "'cause tonight's the time for 'em all to be busy 'bout the Vandecar house. I know, I do no matter how!"
"It was the most charitable act I have ever heard of," replied Vandecar. "But you are straying from the case. Do I understand that you have taken up the side of the father?" "Yes." "And that you intend to make a move to return his children to him?" "Yes." "Why?" As Everett looked at the stern, unyielding man before him, his excuse to Mrs. Vandecar seemed tame as it ran through his mind.
Turning his misty eyes upon the children he continued, "This is Mr. Brimbecomb, and Miss Katherine Vandecar, Governor Vandecar's niece." He went through this introduction to gain control of his feelings. "They have changed their minds, Everett, and have brought me the pig," he exclaimed. "It was kind of you, child!"
"If you will be a fool," said he, "it's time your friends took a hand in your affairs. I think Governor Vandecar will have something to say about that!" "No more than you have," warned Horace. "The only regret I have is that Ann has chosen you for her husband. I'm wondering what she would say if I repeated tonight's conversation to her as to a man lying to a woman."
When she had added pathos to the story by telling of Flukey's illness, Mrs. Vandecar broke in. "I'm glad Ann stayed, dear girl! It's like her to nurse that sick child." She said no more; but turned away with misty eyes.
"Yep, he has, and when he says as how he believes like Miss Shellington, then I'll believe, too. See?" Then Flea fell into a stubborn silence. One afternoon in December, Ann and Horace sat conversing in the library. "I don't see how Mrs. Vandecar can refuse to help you get that child into school, Ann." "I don't believe she will; but Everett thinks she ought."
The personality of his dead wife called upon his senses and made itself as necessary to him then as in the moment of his first rapture when she had placed her womanly might upon his soul. His revenge upon Floyd Vandecar would be finished when the gray-eyed Flea, so like her own father, went away with the one-armed man, to eke out her destiny amid the squalor of the thief's home.
Vandecar leaned far over the bed, and peered into his face. Something so touched her in the thin, sunken cheeks, in the drawn mouth, whispering in an unnatural sleep, that she drew back weeping. Suddenly words formed on the sleeper's lips: "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild," fell from them, "look upon look upon " Then the whisper trailed once more into incoherence.
"No; but I knew that Ann wanted to go this year, and I thought a party would be pleasant. I asked Katherine Vandecar; but her aunt is such an invalid that Katherine can scarcely ever leave her." "Mrs. Vandecar is ill," said Ann. "I called there yesterday, and she is the frailest looking woman I ever saw." "She's never got over the loss of her children," rejoined Everett.
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