waiting across the street, directed him about the baggage, and saw to
getting Carol inside and seated.

Only once Carol came back to earth, "Mercy, Connie, taxis cost a
fortune out here."

"This isn't a taxi," said Connie, "it is just a car."

But Carol did not even hear her answer, for Julia, enchanted at being
so lavishly enthroned in the attention of any one, lifted her lips for
another noisy kiss, and Carol was deaf to the rest of the world.

Her one idea now was to get this precious, wonderful, matchless
creature home to David as quickly as possible.

"Hurry, hurry," she begged. "Make him go faster, Connie."

"He can't," said Connie, laughing. "Do you want to get us pinched for
speeding the first thing?"

And Julia, catching the word, immediately pinched both her auntie and
her mama, to show them she knew what they were talking about. And
Carol was stricken dumb at the wonderful, unbelievable cleverness of
this remarkable infant.

When the car stopped before her cottage, she forgot her manners as
hostess, she forgot the baggage, and the driver, and even sister
Connie. She just grabbed Julia in her arms and rushed into the
cottage, back through the kitchen to the sleeping porch in the rear,
and stood gloating over her husband.

"Look, look, look," she chanted. "It is Julia, she is ours, she is
here." David sat up in bed, his breath coming quickly.

Carol, like a goddess of plenty dispensing royal favors, dumped the
smiling child on the bed and David promptly seized her.

By this time Connie had made her arrangements with the driver, and
escorted herself calmly into the house, trailing the family to the
porch, gently readjusting Julia who was nearly turned upside down by
the fervor of her papa and mama, and informed David that she wanted to
shake hands. Thus recalled, David did shake hands, and looked pleased
when she commented on how well he was looking. But in her heart,
Connie, the young, untouched by sorrow, alive with the passion for
work, was crying out in resentment. Big, buoyant, active David reduced
to this. Carol, radiant, glowing, gleaming Carol,--this subdued gentle
woman with the thin face and dark circles beneath her eyes. "Oh, it is
wrong," thought Connie,--though she still smiled, for hearts are
marvelous creations, holding such sorrow, and hiding it well.

When their wraps were removed, Julia sat on David's table, with David's
hand squeezing her knees, and Carol clutching her