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 It came, at length, to the point when she spoke of it, timidly and with hot blushes, to Aunt Mabelle. She said she wanted to be kind to Philip, she wanted to be friendly with him, but somehow she couldn't. He was so changed and cold and hard. If she could only get him back to Africa everything would be all right: they had been happy there, at least she had been, and as for Philip, he didn't seem any happier now that he was doing what he wanted to do. He never seemed happy anywhere, not since the day they had arrived at Megambo.

Mabelle, rocking little Jimmy, listened with the passionate interest of a woman who found such a conversation fascinating. She led Naomi deeper and deeper into the mire and at last, when she had considered all the facts, she said, "Well, Naomi, it's my opinion that you ought to have a child. Philip would like a baby. He's that kind. I know them when I see them. Now, my Elmer hates children. They get in his way and I think they make him feel foolish and awkward, God alone knows why. But Philip's different. He ought to have a lot of children. He'd love 'em, and it would be a tie between you."

Naomi raised the old difficulty. "But if we go back to Africa—we can't take a little baby there."

"Well, you'd have to work that out, of course. Em would take care of it. She'd find time somehow. She can do anything she sets her mind to." Naomi, it seemed, wouldn't meet her eye and Aunt Mabelle pushed on, with the tact and grace of a walrus. "Did you ever see a doctor to find out why you hadn't had one? A doctor can help sometimes."

Naomi was suddenly pale and shaking. Without