"
"Three hundred and twenty acres--'out there'!" she exclaimed in scorn.
"Any one can have a farm here for the askin'. What is that? Is it a home?
What have you got to start a home with? Do you deny you are no better
than a tramp? Have you got a hundred dollars in the world? Have you got a
roof over your head? Have you got a trade? You'll take her where--to
what? Even if you had a home, what then? You would have to get someone to
look after her--some old crone, a wench maybe, who'd be as fit to bring
up a child as I would be to--" she paused and looked round in helpless
quest for a simile, when, in despair, she caught sight of Jean Jacques'
watch-chain--"as I would be to make a watch!" she added.
Instinctively Jean Jacques drew out the ancient timepiece he had worn on
the Grand Tour; which had gone down with the Antoine and come up with
himself. It gave him courage to make the fight for his own.
"The good God would see that--" he began.
"The good God doesn't interfere in bringing up babies," she retorted.
"That's the work for the fathers and mothers, or godfathers and
godmothers."
"You are neither," exclaimed Jean Jacques. "You have no rights at all."
"I have no rights--eh? I have no rights! Look at the child. Look at the
way she's clothed. Look at the cradle in which it lies. It cost fifteen
dollars; and the clothes--what they cost would keep a family half a year.
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