"All right," said Dr. James calmly. "I'll guarantee that you
never see it again. Is there anything else you want?"
"You -- you didn't --?"
The doctor shook his head. "Very sorry," he said, "but there
wasn't a thing could be done."
"Where is he?" she asked in a whisper.
"His people took him home immediately after the Coroner's inquest,
which found that he died from heart failure, brought on by his
long walk in the heat."
Kate stared at him with a face pitiful to behold.
"You let him think THAT?" she whispered again.
"I did," said the old doctor. "I thought, and still think, that
for the sake of you and yours," he waved toward the bundle, "it
was the only course to pursue."
"Thank you," said Kate. "You're very kind. But don't you think
that I and mine are going to take a lot of shielding? The next
man may not be so kindly disposed. Besides, is it right? Is it
honest?"
"It is for you," said the doctor. "You had nothing to do with it.
If you had, things would not have gone as they did. As for me, I
feel perfectly comfortable about it in my conscience, which is my
best guide. All I had to do was to let them tell their story. I
perjured myself only to the extent of testifying that you knew
nothing about it. The Coroner could well believe that. George
and his mother could easily manage the remainder."
Kate waved toward the bundle: "Am I supposed to welcome and love
them?"
"A poet might expect you to," said the doctor. "In the
circumstances, I do not. I shall feel that you have done your
whole duty if you will try to nurse them when the time comes. You
must have a long rest, and they must grow some before you'll
discover what they mean to you. There's always as much chance
that they'll resemble your people as that they will not. The boy
will have dark hair and eyes I think, but he looks exactly like
you. The girl is more Holt."
"Where is George?" she asked.
"He was completely upset," said the doctor. "I suggested that he
go somewhere to rest up a few days, so he took his tackle and went
fishing, and to the farm."
"Shouldn't he have stayed and faced it?" asked Kate.
"There was nothing for him to face, except himself, Kate," said
the doctor.
Kate shook her head. She looked ghastly ill.
"Doctor," she said, "couldn't you have let me die?"
"And left your son and your little daughter to them?" he asked.
"No, Kate, I couldn't have let you die; because you've your work
in the world under your hand right now."
He said that because when he said "left your son and your little
daughter to them," Kate had reached over and laid her hand
possessively, defensively, on the little, squirming bundle, which
was all Dr. James asked of her. Presently she looked the doctor
straight in the face. "Exactly what do you know?" she asked.