So Hugh talked. The others drew away and watched and listened. They
did not look at each other. For some reason Pete was ashamed to meet
Bella's eyes. As usual, they were the audience, those two. They sat,
each in a chair, the width of the room apart; below them, his grizzled
head and warped face transfigured by its new tenderness, Hugh bent
over the child in his arms. Pete held his tumult of curiosity, of
interest, in leash. He could hear his heart pounding.

"You're safe now, and warm," Hugh was murmuring. "No need to be
scared, no need. I'll take care of you. Go to sleep. I'm strong enough
to keep off anything. You're safe and snug as a little bird in its
nest. That's right. Go to sleep."

Pete's blue eyes dwelt on this amazing spectacle with curious wonder.
This was a Hugh he had never seen before. For the first time in
fifteen years, he realized, the man had forgotten himself.




CHAPTER IV


To Hugh Garth the girl told her story at last. She seemed to realize
only dimly that there were two other living beings in this house,
to her a house of darkness peopled only by voices--Pete's modest,
rare boy speeches, Bella's brief, smothered statements. The great
music of Hugh's utterance must indeed have filled her narrowed world.
So it was to him she turned--he was always near her, sitting on the