"Whippin' don' do me no good. But it does me good to see that ole woman runnin' down the road, like a ole black sheep. . . . Baby an' me, we're sittin' in the sun. See." She picked up the child from somewhere and holding him under her arm, suspended him out of the window. He was stark naked. His massive, infantile legs dangled feebly, and he stared, blinking, at Derek, with an air of benign jollity.
"Don't let him fall," said Vale, anxiously.
"I jus' wanted you to see how big he is. Ain't it fonny he's our little baby?"
"Very funny." He stared at the child with grim curiosity. It was indeed larger and lustier than he had thought from the glimpse two days ago. He felt neither remorse nor shame in looking at it; rather pride in its lustiness. Yet he felt ashamed because he felt no shame.
With the departure of Mrs. Machin a change took place in the atmosphere of Grimstone. Instead of the feeling of impending storm, a feeling of reckless holiday was born. Phœbe piled up her breakfast dishes without washing them and lounged to the fields with Hughie. Snailem tramped about the kitchen in boots caked with manure, and stewed himself a pot of strong tea in the middle of the morning. Even Jock, the collie, seemed to realize that the strong hand of discipline had relaxed its grip, for Derek found him sleeping comfortably curled up on the sofa in the parlour.
The heat had not penetrated there as it had into the rest of the house. There was even a damp sort of chill that made one shiver after the hot glare out of doors. Having pushed Jock off the sofa Derek lay down himself. His head ached, and he rammed it into an incomfortable beaded
