So Henry told Kate how he had loved Polly, how he felt guilty of her death, how he longed for and wanted her baby, how he had signed the paper which Polly put before him so unexpectedly, to humour her, because she was very ill; but he had not dreamed that she could die; how he did not feel that he should be bound by that signature now.  Kate listened with the deepest sympathy, assenting to most he said until he was silent.  Then she sat thinking a long time.  At last she said:  “Henry, if you and Polly had waited until I came home, and told me what you wanted and how you felt, I should have gotten her ready, and given you a customary wedding, and helped you to start a life that I think would have saved her to you, and to me.  That is past, but the fact remains.  You are hurt over giving up the baby as you have; I’m hurt over losing my daughter as I did; we are about even on the past, don’t you think?”

“I suppose we are,” he said, heavily.

“That being agreed,” said Kate, “let us look to the future.  You want the baby now, I can guess how much, by how much I want her, myself.  I know your point of view; there are two others, one is mine, and the other is the baby’s.  I feel that it is only right and just that I should have this little girl to replace the one you took from me, in a way far from complimentary to me.  I feel that she is mine, because Polly told me the day she came to see me how sick she had been, how she had begged for a doctor, and been kissed and told there was nothing the matter with her, when she knew she was very ill.  She gave the baby to me, and at that time she had been to see a lawyer, and had her papers all made out except the signatures and dates.  Mr. Thomlins can tell you that; and you know that up to that time I had not seen Polly, or had any communication with her.  She simply was unnerved at the thought of trusting her baby to the care she had had.”

Kate was hitting hard and straight from the shoulder.  The baby, busy with her sunbeam, jabbered unnoticed.

“When Polly died as she did,” continued Kate, “I knew that her baby would be full of the same poison that killed her; and that it must be eliminated before it came time to cut her worst teeth, so I undertook the work, and sleeping or waking, I have been at it ever since.  Now, Henry, is there any one at your house who would have figured this out, and taken the time, pains, and done work that I have?  Is there?”

“Mother raised six of us.” he said defensively.

“But she didn’t die of diathesis giving birth to the first of you,” said Kate.  “You were all big, strong boys with a perfectly sound birthright.  And your mother is now a much older, wearier woman than she was then, and her hands are far too full every day, as it is.  If she knew how to handle the baby as I have, and was willing to add the work to her daily round, would you be willing to have her?  I have three times her strength,