eathless,
perspiring and flushed. Even then she was thirty minutes ahead of
time, but finally the announcer called the train, and Carol stationed
herself at the exit close to the gate to watch the long line of
travelers coming up from the subway. No one noticed the slender woman
standing so motionless in the front of the waiting line, but the angels
in Heaven must have marked the tumult throbbing in her heart, and the
happiness stinging in her bright eyes.

Then--she leaned forward. That was Connie of course,--she caught her
breath, and tears started to her eyes. Yes, that was Connie, that tall
slim girl with the shining face,--and oh, kind and merciful Providence,
that must be her own little Julia trudging along beside her, the fat
white face turning eagerly from side to side, confident she was going
to know that mother on sight, just because they had told her a mother
was what most belonged to her.

Carol twisted her hands together, wringing her gloves into a shred.
She moistened her dry lips, and blinked desperately to crowd away those
tears. Yes, it was Connie, the little baby sister she used to tease so
mercilessly, and Julia, the little rosebud baby she had wanted so many
nights. She could not bear to let those ugly tears dim her sight for
one minute, she dare not miss one second of that feast to her hungering
eyes.

The two sisters who had not seen each other for nearly four years,
looked into each other's faces, Carol's so pleadingly hungry for the
vision of one of her own, Connie's so strongly sweet and reassuring.
Instinctively the others drew away, and the little group, the
red-capped attendant trailing in the rear, stood alone.

"Julia, this is your mama," said Connie, and the wide blue eyes were
lifted wonderingly into those other wide blue eyes so like them,--the
mother eyes that little Julia had never known. Carol, with an
inarticulate sob dropped on her knees and gathered her baby into her
arms.

[Illustration: Carol, with an inarticulate sob, gathered her baby in
her arms.]

Julia, who had been told it was to be a time of laughter, or rejoicing,
of utter gaiety, marveled at the pain in the face of this mother and
patted away the tears with chubby hands, laughing with excitement. By
the time Carol could be drawn from her wild caressing of the rosebud
baby, she was practically helpless. It was Connie who marshaled them
outside, tipped the red-capped attendant, waved a hand to the driver