"Lay her down, John dear," she whispered. "Yer arms'll
ache, man."
On the back of the stove the teakettle simmered drowsily.
There was no sound in the house but the regular breathing
of the sleeping children. The fire burned low, but John
Watson still sat holding his little sleeping girl in his
arms. Outside the snow was beginning to fall.
CONCLUSION
CONVINCING CAMILLA
"If you can convince me, Jim, that you are more
irresponsible and more in need of a guiding hand than
Mrs. Francis--why then I'll--I'll be--"
Jim sprang from his chair.
"You'll be what, Camilla? Tell me quick," he cried
eagerly.
"I'll be--convinced," she said demurely, looking down.
Jim sat down again and sighed.
"Will you be anything else?" he asked.
"Convince me first," she said firmly.
"I think I can do it," he said, "I always have to write
down what I want to do each day, and what I need to buy
when I come in here, and once, when I wrote my list,
nails, coffee, ploughshare, mail, I forgot to put on it,
'come back,' and perhaps you may remember I came here
that evening and stayed and stayed--I was trying to think
what to do next."
"That need not worry you again, Jim," she said sweetly.
"I can easily remember that, and will tell you every
time."
"To 'come back'?" he said. "Thank you, Camilla, and I
will do it too."
She laughed.
"Having to make a list isn't anything. Poor Mrs. Francis
makes a list and then loses it, then makes a second list,
and puts on it to find the first list, and then loses
that; and Jim, she once made biscuits and forgot the
shortening.
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