But when he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in his eyes, he surrendered warm-heartedly.
"A couple of old he-hens like us--we need a chick to look after," he said whimsically.

"I guess Markham Moore ought to be good enough for most any kid.

And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll make it good enough! If I ain't been all I should be, there's no law against straightening up.
Markham Moore goes as it lays--hey, Lovins ?" But Lovin Child had gone to sleep over his foster fathers' disposal of his future.

His little yellow head was wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and held him so.
"Yeah.

But what are we going to call him ?" Methodical Cash wanted the whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed.
"Call him?
Why, what've we been calling him, the last two months ?" "That," Cash retorted, "depended on what devilment he was into when we called!" "You said it all, that time.