Her spare, thin, awkward body and her worn, pale yellow face though lit up now with the pleasant summer sun made a queer discord with the brightness of her clothes.

She came to the Lehntman house, where she had not been for several days, and opening the door that is always left unlatched in the houses of the lower middle class in the pleasant cities of the South, she found Julia in the family sitting-room alone.

“Well, Julia, where is your mamma?” Anna asked.  “Ma is out but come in, Miss Annie, and look at our new brother.”  “What you talk so foolish for Julia,” said Anna sitting down.  “I ain’t talkin’ foolish, Miss Annie.  Didn’t you know mamma has just adopted a cute, nice little baby boy?” “You talk so crazy, Julia, you ought to know better than to say such things.”  Julia turned sullen.  “All right Miss Annie, you don’t need to believe what I say, but the little baby is in the kitchen and ma will tell you herself when she comes in.”

It sounded most fantastic, but Julia had an air of truth and Mrs. Lehntman was capable of doing stranger things.  Anna was disturbed.  “What you mean Julia,” she said.  “I don’t mean nothin’ Miss Annie, you don’t believe the baby is in there, well you can go and see it for yourself.”

Anna went into the kitchen.  A baby was there all right enough, and a lusty little boy he seemed.  He was very tight asleep in a basket that stood in the corner by the open door.

“You mean your mamma is just letting him stay here a little while,” Anna said to Julia who had followed her into the kitchen to see Miss Annie get real mad.  “No that ain’t it Miss Annie.  The mother was that girl, Lily that came from Bishop’s place out in the country, and she don’t want no children, and ma liked the little boy so much, she said she’d keep him here and adopt him for her own child.”

Anna, for once, was fairly dumb with astonishment and rage.  The front door slammed.

“There’s ma now,” cried Julia in an uneasy triumph, for she was not quite certain in her mind which side of the question she was on.

“There’s ma now, and you can ask her for yourself if I ain’t told you true.”

Mrs. Lehntman came into the kitchen where they were.  She was bland, impersonal and pleasant, as it was her wont to be.  Still to-day, through this her usual manner that gave her such success in her practice as a midwife, there shone an uneasy consciousness of guilt, for like all who had to do with the good Anna, Mrs. Lehntman dreaded her firm character, her vigorous judgments and the bitter fervour of her tongue.

It had been plain to see in the six years these women were together, how Anna gradually had come to lead.  Not really lead, of course, for Mrs. Lehntman never could be led, she was so very devious in her ways; but Anna had come to have direction whenever she could learn what Mrs. Lehntman meant to do before the deed was done.  Now it was hard to tell which would win out.  Mrs. Lehntman had her unhearing mind and her happy way of giving a pleasant well diffused attention, and then she had it on her side that, after all, this thing was already done.