She shook her head. “I can’t do anything—­not anything more.”

She moved away and began to gather up the dishes from the table, clearing it with swift jerks.  She paused a moment and leaned over—­the platter in her hand half-lifted from its place.  “She needs the air,” she said, “and to run about—­she’s sick—­shut up like that!” She lifted the platter and carried it to the sink, a troubled look in her eyes.  “I won’t be responsible for her—­not much longer,” she said slowly, as she set it down, “not if she doesn’t get down in the air.”

The men looked at each other in silence.  The old man got up.  “Time to go to bed—­” he said slowly.

They filed out of the room.  The woman’s eyes followed them.  Presently the door opened and the younger man returned, with soft, quick steps.  He looked at her.  “I want to talk,” he said.

“In a minute,” she replied.  She nodded toward the cellar.  “The lantern’s down there—­you go along.”

He opened the door and stepped cautiously into blackness, and she heard a quick, scratching match on the plaster behind the closed door, and his feet descending the stairs.

She drew forward the kettle on the stove and replenished the fire, and blew out the hand lamp on the table.  Then she groped her way to the cellar door, opening it with noiseless touch.

The young man waited below, impatient.  On a huge barrel near by, the lantern cast a yellow circle on the blackness.

The woman approached it, her high-stepping figure flung in shadowy movement along the wall behind her.

“You can’t back out now!” He spoke quickly.  “You’re weakening!  And you’ve got to brace up—­do you hear?”

The woman’s round face smiled—­over the light on the barrel. “I’m all right,” she said.  She hesitated a minute....  “It’s the child that’s not all right,” she added slowly.  “And tonight I got scared—­yes—­” She waited a breath.

“What’s the matter?” he said roughly.

She waited again.  “She wasn’t like flesh and blood to-night,” she said slowly.  “I felt as if a breath would blow her out—­” She drew her hand quickly across her eyes.  “I’ve got fond of the little thing, John—­I can’t seem to have her hurt!”

“Who’s hurting her?” said the man sharply. “You take care of her—­and she’s all right.”

“I can’t, John.  She needs the outdoors.  She’s like a little bird up there—­shut up!”

“Then let her out—­” said the man savagely.  “Let her out—­up there!” His lifted hand pointed to the plain about them—­in open scorn.  He leaned forward and spoke more persuasively, close to her ear—­“We can’t back out now—­” he said, “the child knows too much!” He gave the barrel beside them a significant tap.  “We couldn’t use this plant again—­six years—­digging it—­and waiting and starving!” He struck the barrel sharply.  “I tell you we’ve got to put it through!  You keep her out of sight!”