Every
smothered cry that came from her lips began to tear the heart out of his
body at last. He could hold the long pent agony no longer without words.
"My God, Nancy, what can I do for ye, Honey?"
Her breath came in gasps and her eyes were shining with a strange
intensity.
"Nothing, Tom, nothing now--I'm looking Death in the face and I'm not
afraid----"
"Please lemme give ye some whiskey," he pleaded, pressing the glass to
her lips.
"No--no, take it away--I hate it. My baby shall be clean and strong or I
want to die."
The decision seemed to brace her spirit for the last test when the
trembling feet entered the shadows of the dim valley that lies between
Life and Death.
The dark, slender figure lay still and white at last. A sharp cry from
lusty lungs, and the grey eyes slowly opened, with a timid wondering
look.
"Tom!" she cried with quick eager tones.
"Yes, Nancy, yes!"
"A boy?"
"Of course--and a buster he is, too."
"Give him to me--quick!"
The stalwart figure bent over the bed and laid the little red bundle in
her arms. She pressed him tenderly to her heart, felt his breath on her
breast and the joyous tears slowly poured down her cheeks.
III
Before the first year of the boy's life had passed the task of teaching
his good-natured, stubborn father became impossible.
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