With that strange quick intuition which so often saves the actual speaking of such tidings, the mother seemed to see what had happened.
"He's gone ?" she said, with a weak quivering voice.

"My baby!" And her eyes seemed to devour the still little form which she had not strength to put out her hand to touch.

The kind woman laid down the child for a moment where the mother's lips could touch its cold cheek.
"Don't fret," she said, while tears rolled down her own face; "there's three on 'em yet, as wants their mother to take care on 'em." She seemed to have touched with instinctive skill the right chord for consolation.

Mrs.Clarkson spoke again after a minute with a steadier and calmer voice, "You'll lay him by me now ?" she said.

"It can't wake him out of his sleep, and I'd like to see him till the last.