“Everything,” said the doctor.  “And you?”

“Everything,” said Kate.

There was a long silence.  Then Kate spoke slowly:  “That George didn’t know that he shouldn’t have touched that man, proves him completely incompetent,” she said.  “That he did, and didn’t have the courage to face the results, proves him lacking in principle.  He’s not fit for either work to which he aspires.”

“You are talking too much,” said the doctor.  “Nurse Nepple is in charge here, and Aunt Ollie.  George’s mother went to the farm to cook for him.  You’re in the hands of two fine women, who will make you comfortable.  You have escaped lasting disgrace with your skirts clear, now rest and be thankful.”

“I can’t rest until I know one thing,” said Kate.  “You’re not going to allow George to kill any one else?”

“No,” said the doctor.  “I regretted telling him very much; but I had to tell him that could not happen.”

“And about the school?” she asked.  “I half thought he might get it.”

“He won’t!” said the doctor.  “I’m in a position to know that.  Now try to take some rest.”

Kate waved toward the babies:  “Will you please take them away until they need me?” she asked.

“Of course,” said the doctor.  “But don’t you want to see them, Kate?  There isn’t a mark or blemish on either of them.  The boy weighs seven pounds and the girl six; they seem as perfect as children can be.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” said Kate.  “Twins are a Bates habit.  My mother had three pairs, always a boy and a girl, always big and sound as any children; mine will be all right, too.”

The doctor started to turn back the blanket.  Kate turned her head away:  “Don’t you think I have had about enough at present?” she asked.  “I’d stake my life that as a little further piece of my punishment, the girl looks exactly like Mrs. Holt.”

“By Jove,” said the doctor, “I couldn’t just think who it was.”

He carried the babies from the room, lowered the blinds, and Kate tried to sleep, and did sleep, because she was so exhausted she could not keep awake.

Later in the evening Aunt Ollie slipped in, and said George was in the woodhouse, almost crying himself to death, and begging to see her.

“You tell him I’m too sick to be seen for at least a week,” said Kate.

“But, my dear, he’s so broken up; he feels so badly,” begged Aunt Ollie.

“So do I,” said Kate.  “I feel entirely too badly to be worried over seeing him.  I must take the babies now.”

“I do wish you would!” persisted Aunt Ollie.

“Well, I won’t,” said Kate.  “I don’t care if I never see him again.  He knows why he is crying; ask him.”

“I’ll wager they ain’t a word of truth in that tale they’re telling,” she said.

Kate looked straight at her:  “Well, for their sakes and my sake, and the babies’ sake, don’t talk about it.”