The kids are on their way in to their
father, who is an engineer on one of the creeks back of Katma. Their
mother died two months ago. Miss O'Neill met them first aboard the
Skagit on the way up and she has mothered them ever since. Some women
are that way, bless 'em. I know because I've been married to one myself
six months. She's back there at St. Michael's, and she just grabs at
every baby in the block."
The eyes of Elliot rested on Miss O'Neill. "She loves children."
"She sure does--no bluff about that." An imp of mischief sparkled in
the eye of the supercargo. "Not married yourself, are you, Mr. Elliot?"
"No."
"Hmp!"
That was all he said, but Gordon felt the blood creep into his face.
This annoyed him, so he added brusquely,--
"And not likely to be."
When the call for breakfast came Miss O'Neill took her retinue of
youngsters with her to the dining-room. Looking across from his seat at
an adjoining table, Elliot could see her waiting upon them with a fine
absorption in their needs. She prepared an orange for Billie and offered
to the little girls suggestions as to ordering that were accepted by
them as a matter of course. Unconsciously the children recognized in her
the eternal Mother.
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