it but Mrs. Patterson. The house resembled one of those puzzle boxes
containing a number of curiously sawn pieces of wood, which, once
removed, can be returned and fitted into place again only by some one
who knows the secret.

Scattergood entered the house, remained upward of an hour, and then
reappeared, followed by Mrs. Patterson, seven children, an old man, and
an old woman--and in his arms was a baby whose lungs gave promise of a
healthy manhood.

"Do this much, does he?" Scattergood asked, uneasily.

"Not more 'n most," said Mrs. Patterson.

"Um!... If he lets on to be hungry, what's the best thing to feed him
up on? I got a bag of doughnuts and five-six sandriches and nigh on to
half a apple pie in the buggy."

"Feed him them," said Mrs. Patterson, "and you'll be like to hear some
real yellin'. What he's doin' now hain't nothin' but his objectin' to
you a-carryin' him like he was a horse blanket.... You wait right there
till I git a bottle of milk. And I'll fix you some sugar in a rag that
you kin put into his mouth if he acts uneasy. It'll quiet him right
off."

"Much 'bleeged. Hain't had much experience with young uns. Might's well
start now. Bet me 'n this here one gits well acquainted 'fore we reach
Coldriver."

"'Twouldn't s'prise me a mite," replied Mrs. Patterson, with something