mantle over his shoulder, around his neck; and her arms hold him close against her—"as a matter of fac', darling, you are no better than Buckskin"—Oh, the sweetness of those arms! Their fragility—and their strength—those pouting lips. And she loved Jammery—He could not hear what those fellows were saying. How he dreaded the night!
But the night passed quickly. Tired out from lack of sleep, his head had barely touched the pillow when he was off. A dreamless sleep held him till daylight, when he was awakened by Buckskin whom he had taken to bed with him to keep him warm. Buckskin cooed, he crowed, he chuckled, he lifted Derek's eyelid and looked quizzically down into his eye. "Good Lord," groaned Derek, "can't you let your poor dad sleep in peace?" Buckskin could not and would not, so Derek got up and made the breakfast.
They sat side by side at table (Buckskin had a high chair) unwashed and uncombed, eating large plates of porridge covered with cream. Buckskin's bib was a sight. Derek wondered what Edmund would have said.
"The first thing for you to do," he told Lottie Rain when she came to do the work, "is to give this baby a bath. He's got soap and sponge and everything of his own. Don't let him get a chill. Keep him by the stove. And look here—" he turned in the doorway—"My wife is away but I don't want the folk about here to gossip, so if anyone asks you anything, just say she's not very well, and she stops in most of the time. Understand?"
Lottie's face melted into a comprehending smile. "Yes, I understan' all that. I know how to keep quiet. I know your wife ever since she was a little girl. It was her sent me back to look after you and the baby. She couldn't bear to think you wasn't gittin' looked after properly." . . .
