Then she sealed and addressed the letter with an unfaltering hand;
but, when it was done, she looked across the table at Pa Sloane,
who was sitting in the armchair with the baby on his knee.
They were having a royal good time together. Pa had always been
dreadfully foolish about babies. He looked ten years younger.
Ma's keen eyes softened a little as she watched them.
A prompt answer came to her letter. Teddy's uncle wrote that he had
six children of his own, but was nevertheless willing and glad
to give his little nephew a home. But he could not come after him.
Josiah Spencer, of White Sands, was going out to Manitoba in the spring.
If Mr. and Mrs. Sloane could only keep the baby till then he could be
sent out with the Spencers. Perhaps they would see a chance sooner.
"There'll be no chance sooner," said Pa Sloane in a tone of satisfaction.
"No, worse luck!" retorted Ma crisply.
The winter passed by. Little Teddy grew and throve, and Pa Sloane
worshipped him. Ma was very good to him, too, and Teddy was just
as fond of her as of Pa.
Nevertheless, as the spring drew near, Pa became depressed.
Sometimes he sighed heavily, especially when he heard casual
references to the Josiah Spencer emigration.
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