ir," whispered the nurse, with a nervous glance about her;
"this ain't Raggles, sir. _This_ is a baby."

"Do you think I'm blind, madam?" whispered he, savagely. "I can see it's
a baby, but I didn't know there was to be one. Its father didn't mention
it to me."

"It's a wise father that knows his own child," said the nurse, with
prompt sarcasm.

"I think they should have prepared me for this," growled he. "Is it
supposed to be mine? Does--does Mrs. Medcroft know about it?"

"You mean, about the baby, sir? Of course she does. It's hers. Please
don't look so odd, sir. My word, sir, I didn't know you didn't know it,
sir. I wasn't told, was I, O'Brien? There, sir, you see! Mrs. Medcroft
said as I was to bring Tootles in to you, sir. She said--"

"Tootles?" murmured Brock. "Tootles and Raggles. I daresay there's a
distinction without much of a difference. Are you Burton?"

"Yes, Mr. Medcroft. The nurse. Won't you take baby for a minute, sir?
Just to get acquainted, and for appearance's sake." She whispered the
well-meant entreaty. Brock, now well into the spirit of the situation,
obligingly extended his arms. The baby set up a lusty howl of aversion.

"For God's sake, take him back to his mother!" groaned Brock hastily.
"He doesn't like strangers! Take him away!"

"It isn't a he, sir," whispered the maid, as the nurse prepared to beat
a hasty retreat with the Medcroft offspring. "It's a her, sir."

Brock's face was a study in perplexity as they hurried from the car.

"By George," he muttered, "what next!"

That which did come next was even more amazing than the unexpected
advent of Tootles. He barely had recovered his equanimity--with his
coffee--when a young lady entered the car. That, of itself, was not much
to speak of, but what followed was something that not even he could have
dreamed of if he had been given the chance. He afterward recalled, in
some distress of mind, that his second quick glance at the newcomer
developed into little less than a rude stare of admiration. Small
wonder, let it be advanced in his defence.

She was astoundingly fair to look upon--dazzling, it might be said, with
some support to the adjective. Moreover, she was looking directly into
his eyes from her unstable position near the door; what was more, a shy,
even mischievous, smile crept into her face as her glance caught his.
Never had he seen a more exquisite face than hers; never had he looked
upon a more perfect picture of grace