The baby was unwell, and was restless, crying if he were put down.

Mrs.Morel, tired to death, and still weak, was scarcely under control.
"I wish the nuisance would come," she said wearily to herself.
The child at last sank down to sleep in her arms.

She was too tired to carry him to the cradle.
"But I'll say nothing, whatever time he comes," she said.

"It only works me up; I won't say anything.

But I know if he does anything it'll make my blood boil," she added to herself.
She sighed, hearing him coming, as if it were something she could not bear.