" ...] The eyes of the dying woman roamed from one to the other of her six children-twenty-two-year-old Jack, handsome and manly, so like-oh, so like that other Jack who had come wooing her nearly thirty years ago Bridgie, slim and delicate-so unfit, poor child, to take the burden of a mother's place; Miles, with his proud, overbearing look, a boy who had had especial claims on her care and guidance; Joan, beautiful and daring, ignorant of nothing so much as of her own ignorance; Pat, of the pensive face and reckless spirit; and last but not least, Pixie, her baby-dear, naughty, loyal little Pixie, whom she must leave to the tender mercies of children little older than herself The dim eyes brightened, the thin hand stretched out and gripped her husband by the arm. "Jack " she cried shrilly-"Pixie Give Pixie a chance Take care of her-she is so young-and I can't stay. For my sake, Jack, give Pixie a chance " ...]."