Joe Robinson's daughter. I reckon Dad will give me a character if
you want references, or any of the boys on the river."

"I'm only thinking of the trouble I'm giving you, Miss Robinson, I
assure you. Any expense you may incur--"

"Young man," said Bessy Robinson, turning sharply on her heel, and
facing him with her black brows a little contracted, "if it comes
to expenses, I reckon I'll pay you for that baby, or not take it at
all. But I don't know you well enough to quarrel with you on
sight. So leave the child to me, and, if you choose, paddle down
here to-morrow, after sun up--the ride will do you good--and see
it, and Dad thrown in. Good by!" and with one powerful but well-
shaped arm thrown around the child, and the other crooked at the
dimpled elbow a little aggressively, she swept by James North and
entered a bedroom, closing the door behind her.

When Mr. James North reached his cabin it was dark. As he rebuilt
his fire, and tried to rearrange the scattered and disordered
furniture, and remove the debris of last night's storm, he was
conscious for the first time of feeling lonely. He did not miss
the child. Beyond the instincts of humanity and duty he had really
no interest in its welfare or future. He was rather glad to get
rid of it, he would have preferred to some one else, and yet SHE
looked as if she were competent. And then came the reflection that
since the morning he had not once thought of the woman he loved.
The like had never occurred in his twelvemonth solitude. So he set
to work, thinking of her and of his sorrows, until the word
"Looney," in connection with his suffering, flashed across his
memory. "Looney!" It was not a nice word. It suggested something