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“My name’s Farnham,” he began hoarsely. “This is my son Thad. You’ve met him, maybe?” He stopped and cleared his throat.

Lib did not turn her head.

“Yes, I’ve met him,” she said quietly.

The old man’s face turned the color of dull terra-cotta.

“They say he took advantage of you. I don’t know. I wasn’t much as a young feller, but I wasn’t a scrub, and I don’t savvy scrubs. I fetched him over here to-day to ask you if it’s true, and to say to you if it is, he’ll marry you or there’ll be trouble. That don’t square it, but it’s the best I can do.”

There was a tense stillness in the little room. The baby gave a squeal of delight and kicked a small red stocking from its dimpled foot. The old man picked it up and laid it on Lib’s lap. She looked straight into his face for a while before she spoke.

“I guess you’re a good man, Mr. Farnham,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t mind being your daughter-in-law, if you had a son that took after you. I think the baby would like you very well for a grandpap, too. The older he grows, the more particular I’m getting about his relations. I didn’t think much about anything before he came, but I’ve done a lot of thinkin’ since. I guess that’s generally the way with girls.”

She turned toward Thad, and her voice cut the air like a lash.

“Suppose you was the father of this baby, and had to be drug here by the scruff of the neck to own it, wouldn’t you think I’d done the poor little thing harm enough just by–by that, without tackin’ you onto him for the rest of his life? No, sir!” She stood up and took a step backward. “You go and tell everybody–tell Ruby Adair, that I say this child hasn’t any father; he never had any, but he’s got a mother, and a mother that thinks too much of him to disgrace him by marrying a coward, which is more than she’ll be able to say for her children if she ever has any! Now go!”