"Wha dat you got wrapped up so tight, in a blanket?"
Unex smiled a slow sad smile. "Dis is a present I brought you, Si May-e! De nicest present ever was, but I liken not to a got here wid em. Look at em and see how you like em."
He began undoing the blanket carefully, awkwardly. His hands were cold, the joints of his fingers stiff; but Mary stood still and watched him. At last the top of the blanket was off, and Unex bent over it saying, "Is you wake, Emma? Looka, Si May-e. E's you gramma, honey."
"Whe in Gawd's world did you get em from, son?"
The baby's bright black eyes stared up from a tiny wrinkled face, both small fists were clenched tight. Unex slipped a finger inside one of them, and it held on tight for dear life. "Emma is my own, Si May-e. I fetched em to you to raise for me."
Mary shifted her weight unsteadily from one knee to the other. "Who had em for you, son?" she whispered.
"E mammy is dead, Si May-e," the boy answered simply. "I couldn' raise em by mysef."
Mary brushed her tears away and patted Unex's shoulder briskly. "Gi me de child, son. How-come you had em out in all dis rain to-
