The baby had a good, formal name, but no one ever used it. Adam,
on first lifting the blanket, had fancied the child resembled its
mother and had called her "Little Poll." The name clung to her.
Kate could not call such a tiny morsel either Kate or Katherine;
she liked "Little Poll," better. The baby had three regular
visitors. One was her father. He was not fond of Kate; Little
Poll suited him. He expressed his feeling by bringing gifts of
toys, candy, and unsuitable clothes. Kate kept these things in
evidence when she saw him coming and swept them from sight when he
went; for she had the good sense not to antagonize him. Nancy
Ellen came almost every day, proudly driving her new car, and with
the light of a new joy on her face. She never said anything to
Kate, but Kate knew what had happened. Nancy Ellen came to see
the baby. She brought it lovely and delicate little shoes,
embroidered dresses and hoods, cloaks and blankets. One day as
she sat holding it she said to Kate: "Isn't the baby a dreadful
bother to you? You're not getting half your usual work done."
"No, I'm doing UNUSUAL work," said Kate, lightly. "Adam is hiring
a man who does my work very well in the fields; there isn't money
that would hire me to let any one else take my job indoors, right
now."
A slow red crept into Nancy Ellen's cheeks. She had meant to be
diplomatic, but diplomacy never worked well with Kate. As Nancy
Ellen often said, Kate understood a sledge-hammer better. Nancy
Ellen used the hammer. Her face flushed, her arms closed tightly.
"Give me this baby," she demanded.
Kate looked at her in helpless amazement.
"Give it to me," repeated Nancy Ellen.
"She's a gift to me," said Kate, slowly. "One the Peters family
are searching heaven and earth to find an excuse to take from me.
I hear they've been to a lawyer twice, already. I wouldn't give
her up to save my soul alive, for myself; for you, if I would let
you have her, they would not leave you in possession a day."
"Are they really trying to get her?" asked Nancy Ellen, slowly
loosening her grip.
"They are," said Kate. "They sent a lawyer to get a copy of the
papers, to see if they could pick a flaw in them."
"Can they?" cried Nancy Ellen.
"God knows!" said Kate, slowly. "I HOPE not. Mr. Thomlins is the
best lawyer in Hartley; he says not. He says Henry put his neck
in the noose when he signed the papers. The only chance I can see
for him would be to plead undue influence. When you look at her,
you can't blame him for wanting her. I've two hopes. One that
his mother will not want the extra work; the other that the next
girl he selects will not want the baby. If I can keep them going
a few months more with a teething scare, I hope they will get over
wanting her."