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Well, one must hope, that was all. Only your pa knew as how I were the one as saw to you at the wet-nurse’s cottage, and he got a-hold of me and made me bring him to you. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. He started toward the dog with the idea of ejecting him, but Ruth intervened. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Talk to her of the new story; divert her; for this day her heart has been twisted sorely. Happy Thanksgiving. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself.
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