“I am his wife.”

“His wife?” They looked at each other for a speechess moment.  Then the tears sprang to Lily’s eyes.  “Oh, you poor soul!” she said.  “Say, don’t feel bad!  It’s pretty near ten years ago; he was just a kid.  Since then—­honest to God, I give you my word, he ’ain’t hardly said ’How do you do’ to me!”

“I know,” Eleanor said; her hands were gripped hard together; “I know that.  I know he has been ... perfectly true to me—­lately.  I am not saying a word about that.  It’s the child.  I want to make a proposition to you about the child.”  Her lips trembled, but she smiled; she remembered to smile, because if she didn’t look pleasant Lily might get angry.  She was a little frightened; but she gave a nervous laugh.  She spoke with gentleness, almost with sweetness.  “I came to see you, Mrs. Dale, because I hope you and I can make some arrangement about the little boy.  I want to help you by relieving you of—­of his support.  I mean,” said Eleanor, still smiling with her trembling lips, “I mean, I will take him, and bring him up, so as to save you the expense.”  Lily’s amazed recoil made her break into entreaty; “My husband wants him, and I do, too!  I thought perhaps you’d let him go home with me to-night?  I—­I promise I’ll take the best of care of him!”

Lily was too dumfounded to speak, but her thoughts raced.  “For the land’s sake!” she said under her breath.  She was sitting down now, but her hands in her lap had doubled into rosy fighting fists.

Her silence terrified Eleanor.  “If you’ll give him to me,” she said, “I will do anything for you—­anything!  If you’ll just let Mr. Curtis have him.”  She did not mean to, but suddenly she was crying, and began to fumble for her handkerchief.

“Well, if this ain’t the limit!” said Lily, and jumped up and ran to her, and put her arms around her. ("Here, take mine!  It’s clean.”) “Say, I’m that sorry for you, I don’t know what to do!” Her own tears overflowed.

Eleanor, wincing away from the gush of perfumery from the little clean handkerchief, clutched at Lily’s small plump hand—­“I’ll tell you what to do,” Eleanor said; “Give me Jacky!”

Lily, kneeling beside her, cried, honestly and openly.  “There!—­now!” she said, patting Eleanor’s shoulder; “don’t you cry!  Mrs. Curtis, now look,”—­she spoke soothingly, as if to a child, with her arm around Eleanor—­“you know I can’t let my little boy go?  Why, think how you’d feel yourself, if you had a little boy and anybody tried to get him.  Would you give him up?  ’Course you wouldn’t!  Why, I wouldn’t let Jacky go away from me, even for a day, not for the world!  An’ he ain’t anything to Mr. Curtis.  Honest!  That’s the truth.  Now, don’t you cry, dear!”

“You can see him often; I promise you, you can see him.”

In spite of her pity, Lily’s yellow eyes gleamed:  “‘See’ my own child?  Well, I guess!”

“I’ll give you anything,” Eleanor said; “I have a little money—­about six hundred dollars a year; I’ll give it to you, if you’ll let Mr. Curtis have him.”