K

"I am making them myself. I have a lot of time these days. He's got a

hired girl at the house. It was hard enough to sew at first, with me

making two right sleeves almost every time." Then, seeing his kindly eye on

her: "Well, it's happened, Mr. Le Moyne. What am I going to do? What am I

going to be?"

"You're going to be a very good mother, Tillie."

She was manifestly in need of cheering. K., who also needed cheering that

spring day, found his consolation in seeing her brighten under the small

gossip of the Street. The deaf-and-dumb book agent had taken on life

insurance as a side issue, and was doing well; the grocery store at the

corner was going to be torn down, and over the new store there were to be

apartments; Reginald had been miraculously returned, and was building a new

nest under his bureau; Harriet Kennedy had been to Paris, and had brought

home six French words and a new figure.

Outside the open door the big barn loomed cool and shadowy, full of empty

spaces where later the hay would be stored; anxious mother hens led their

broods about; underneath in the horse stable the restless horses pawed in

their stalls. From where he sat, Le Moyne could see only the round breasts

of the two hills, the fresh green of the orchard the cows in a meadow

beyond.

Tillie followed his eyes.

"I like it here," she confessed. "I've had more time to think since I

moved out than I ever had in my life before. Them hills help. When the

noise is worst down at the house, I look at the hills there and--"

There were great thoughts in her mind--that the hills meant God, and that

in His good time perhaps it would all come right. But she was

inarticulate. "The hills help a lot," she repeated.

K. rose. Tillie's work-basket lay near him. He picked up one of the

little garments. In his big hands it looked small, absurd.

"I--I want to tell you something, Tillie. Don't count on it too much; but

Mrs. Schwitter has been failing rapidly for the last month or two."

Tillie caught his arm.

"You've seen her?"

"I was interested. I wanted to see things work out right for you."

All the color had faded from Tillie's face.

"You're very good to me, Mr. Le Moyne," she said. "I don't wish the poor

soul any harm, but--oh, my God! if she's going, let it be before the next

four months are over."