"I think it's more than anything else that she's
worried about the child."
"And what's wrong with the child, then?"
"There's everything wrong with the child," said Peter. "It's not like the
same child at all. Last night he was as healthy a boy as you'ld wish to
see--quiet and peaceable and good-tempered and strong-looking, for his
age. And now this morning he's thin and sick-looking, and there's black
hair all over his arms, and his face is wrinkled, like he was a little
old man, and he does nothing but cry and scream till you can't bear it,
and twist and squirm till you can't hold him. It's like he was
fairy-struck, only I don't believe in them things at all."
"Did you watch him close last night?" Mrs. O'Brien asked.
"Part of the time," Peter answered, "but I dare say we was both asleep
other times."
"Was Ellen careful about her prayers last night, and were you so,
too?"
"I can't say about that," Peter said. "We might be letting some of
them go, such a time as that, you know, and make it up after."
"Yes," said Mrs.
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