Rilla was heavy-hearted over this, and worried also. She loved Jims
dearly and would feel deeply giving him up in any case; but if Jim
Anderson were a different sort of a man, with a proper home for the
child, it would not be so bad. But to give Jims up to a roving,
shiftless, irresponsible father, however kind and good-hearted he might
be--and she knew Jim Anderson was kind and good-hearted enough--was a
bitter prospect to Rilla. It was not even likely Anderson would stay in
the Glen; he had no ties there now; he might even go back to England.
She might never see her dear, sunshiny, carefully brought-up little Jims
again. With such a father what might his fate be? Rilla meant to beg Jim
Anderson to leave him with her, but, from his letter, she had not much
hope that he would.
"If he would only stay in the Glen, where I could keep an eye on Jims
and have him often with me I wouldn't feel so worried over it," she
reflected. "But I feel sure he won't--and Jims will never have any
chance. And he is such a bright little chap--he has ambition, wherever
he got it--and he isn't lazy. But his father will never have a cent to
give him any education or start in life. Jims, my little war-baby,
whatever is going to become of you?"
Jims was not in the least concerned over what was to become of him. He
was gleefully watching the antics of a striped chipmunk that was
frisking over the roof of the little siding.
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