A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. . I only seen her when she come with that Sister Martha. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. ” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion.
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