she watched with weary throbbing eyes as Aunt Grace
and a nurse and a chamber maid carefully wrapped up a tiny pink flannel
roll for a visit to Room Number Six in the McCormick Building.

"Tell him I am just fine, and it is a lucky thing that he likes girls
better than boys, and we think she is going to look like me. And be
particularly sure to tell him she is very, very pretty, the doctor and
the nurse both say she is,--David might overlook it if his attention
were not especially called to it."

Three weeks later, the suit-case was packed once more, and Carol was
moved back across the grounds to Number Six and David, where already
little Julia was in full control.

"Aren't you glad she is pretty, David?" demanded Carol promptly. "I
was so relieved. Most of them are so red and frowsy, you know. I've
seen lots of new ones in my day, but this is my first experience with a
pretty one."

The doctor and the nurse had the temerity to laugh at that, even with
Julia, pink and dimply, right before them. "Oh, that old, old story,"
said the doctor. "I'm looking for a woman who can class her baby with
the others. I intend to use my fortune erecting a monument to her if I
find her,--but the fortune is safe. Every woman's baby is the only
pretty one she ever saw in her life."

Carol and David were a little indignant at first, but finally they
decided to make allowances for the doctor,--he was old, and of course
he must be tired of babies, he had ushered in so many. They would try
and apply their Christian charity to him, though it was a great strain
on their religion.

But what should be done with Julia? David was so ill, Carol so weak,
the baby so tender. Was it safe to keep her there? But could they let
that little rosebud go?

"Why, I will just take her home with me," said Aunt Grace gently. "And
we'll keep her until you are ready. Oh, it won't be a bit of trouble.
We want her."

That settled it. The baby was to go.

"For once in my life I have made a sacrifice," said Carol grimly. "I
think I must be improving. I have allowed myself to be hurt, and
crushed, and torn to shreds, for the good of some one else. I
certainly must be improving."

Later she thought, "She will know all her aunties before she knows me.
She will love them better. When I go home, she will not know me, and
will cry for Aunt Grace. She will be afraid of me. Really, some
things are very hard." But to David she said that of cour