had no idea of crying, but she was so afraid that it might, and thus
tell where they were hiding. It happened that the baby was sleepy, and
snug and warm in Flossie's loving arms, it was quite content.

Nearer, and yet nearer came the light! Now it was going farther from
her,--now returning, and now, oh, she must hold her breath!

A firm step trampled the underbrush, the lantern was swung high, and the
two runaways were discovered. With a sob Flossie clasped the infant
closer, hiding its face with her own.

"You sha'n't have this baby!" she cried, "for I won't let you! Nobody
shall touch my Uncle Harry's baby; nobody's going to _quantine_ her. I'm
'fraid out here, but I'll stay to take care of his own baby!"

"Flossie! Flossie, little girl, who has frightened you? Why are you
hiding out here with the baby?"

"Go away!" she cried, holding the baby closer, "they've sent you to find
us, but you don't know that they're going to _quantine_ this baby, but
I'll never let them do it."

"Flossie, Flossie, you're frightened, listen to me."

He put the lantern down, and seating himself upon the grass, placed his
strong arm around Flossie, drawing the two closer as if to protect them.

"They _are_ going to _quantine_ this baby!" she cried, "and they sha'n't
cut her head off 'cause there's spots on her face. She's your baby, and
oh, I _love_ you both!"