"Don't you know that she was to be sick? That she came here to be sick?"

"To be sick?" Dorian was genuinely at loss to understand.

"At first I called her a cheat, and threatened to send her away; but the
poor child pleaded so to stay that I hadn't the heart to turn her out.
She had no where to go, she was a long way from home, an' so I let her
stay, an' we did the best for her."

Dorian, in the simplicity of his mind, did not yet realize what the
woman was talking about. He let her continue.

"We had one of the best doctors in the city 'tend her, an' I did the
nursing myself which I consider was as good as any of the new-fangled
trained nurses can do; but the poor girl had been under a strain so long
that the baby died soon after it was born."

"The baby?" gasped Dorian.

"Yes," went on the woman, all unconsciously that the listener had not
fully understood. "Yes, it didn't live long, which, I suppose, in such
cases, is a blessing."

Dorian stared at the woman, then in a dazed way, he looked about the
plain farm-house furnishings, some details of which strangely impressed
him. The woman went on talking, which seemed easy for her, now she had
fairly started; but Dorian did not hear all she said. One big fact was
forcing itself into his brain, to the exclusion of all minor realities.