"They are ma's, and she's got a baby upstairs," answered Maude, and
the lady's hand rested for an instant on the little curly head, for
strange as it may seem, she esteemed more highly a woman who owned a
piano and handsome table than she did one whose worldly possessions
were more limited.
After making some changes in her dress, she went up to the sick-
room, and as Matty was asleep, she had ample time to examine her
face, and also to inspect the room, which showed in someone a
refined and delicate taste.
"She must be more of a lady than I supposed," she thought, and when
at last her sister-in-law awoke she greeted her kindly, and during
her visit, which lasted nearly two weeks, she exerted herself to be
agreeable, succeeding so far that Matty parted from her at last with
genuine regret.
"Poor thing--she'll never see another winter," was Mrs. Kelsey's
mental comment, as she bade the invalid good-by; but in this she was
mistaken, for with the falling of the leaf Matty began to improve,
and though she never fully regained her health, she was able again
to be about the house, doing far more than she ought to have done,
but never uttering a word of complaint, however heavy was the burden
imposed upon her.
With Maude and her baby, who bore the name of Louis, she found her
greatest comfort. He was a sweet, playful child, and sure never
before was father so foolishly proud of his son as was Dr. Kennedy
of his. For hours would he sit watching him while he slept, and
building castles of the future, when "Louis Kennedy, only son of Dr.
Kennedy," should be honored among men. Toward the mother, too, who
had borne him such a prodigy he became a little more indulgent,
occasionally suffering her wishes to prevail over his maxims, and on
three several occasions giving her a dollar to spend as she pleased.
Surely such generosity did not deserve so severe a punishment as was
in store for the proud father.
Louis had a most beautiful face, and in his soft, brown eyes there
was a "look like the angels," as Maude once said to her mother, who
seldom spoke of him without a sigh, for on her mind a terrible fear
was fastening itself. Although mentally as forward as other
children, Louis' body did not keep pace with the growth of his
intellect, and when he was two years of age he could not bear his
weight upon his feet, but in creeping dragged his limbs slowly, as
if in them there was no life--no strength.