Grayson, the Virginian, coming down
from the woods that morning, saw the
big-hearted little doctor outside the door
of the shack, walking up and down,
with his hands in his pockets. He was
whistling softly when Grayson got near,
and, without stopping, pointed with his
thumb within. The oldest boy sat
stolidly on the one chair in the room,
his little brother was on the floor hard
by, and both were hugging a greasy
stove. The little girl was with her
mother in the bed, both almost out of
sight under a heap of quilts. The baby
was in a cradle, with its face uncovered,
whether dead or asleep Grayson could
not tell. A pine coffin was behind the
door. It would not have been possible
to add to the disorder of the room, and
the atmosphere made Grayson gasp. He
came out looking white. The first man
to arrive thereafter took away the eldest
boy, a woman picked the baby girl from
the bed, and a childless young couple
took up the pallid little fellow on the
floor. These were step-children. The
baby boy that was left was the woman's
own. Nobody came for that, and Grayson
went in again and looked at it a