away!"

"Take them all!" I begged.

But he's a hard man.

"I didn't come for an entire asylum," said he, shortly.

By this time Don was sobbing on the other side. And then who should
inject himself into the hubbub but Dr. MacRae, with baby Allegra in his
arms!

I introduced them, and explained. Mr. Bretland reached for the baby, and
Sandy held her tight.

"Quite impossible," said Sandy, shortly. "Miss McBride will tell you
that it's one of the rules of this institution never to separate a
family."

"Miss McBride has already decided," said J. F. B., stiffly. "We have
fully discussed the question."

"You must be mistaken," said Sandy, becoming his Scotchest, and turning
to me. "You surely had no intention of performing any such cruelty as
this?"

Here was the decision of Solomon all over again, with two of the
stubbornest men that the good Lord ever made wresting poor little
Allegra limb from limb.

I despatched the three chicks back to the nursery and returned to the
fray. We argued loud and hotly, until finally J. F. B. echoed my own
frequent query of the last five months: "Who is the head of this asylum,
the superintendent or the visiting physician?"

I was furious with the doctor for placing me in such a position before
that man, but I couldn't quarrel with him in public; so I had ultimately
to tell Mr. Bretland with finality and flatness, that Allegra was out of
the question. Would he not reconsider Sophie?

No, he'd be darned if he'd reconsider Sophie. Allegra or nobody. He
hoped that I realized that I had weakly allowed the child's entire
future to be ruined. And with that parting shot he backed to the door.
"Miss MacRae, Dr. McBride, good afternoon." He achieved two formal bows
and withdrew.

And the moment the door closed Sandy and I fought it out. He said that
any person who claimed to have any modern, humane views on the subject
of child-care ought to be ashamed to have considered for even a moment
the question of breaking up such a family. And I accused him of keeping
her for the purely selfish reason that he was fond of the child and
didn't wish to lose her.

(And that, I believe, is the truth.) Oh, we had the battle of our
career, and he finally took himself off with a stiffness and politeness
that excelled J. F. B.'s.

Between the two of them I feel as limp as though I'd been run through
our new mangling machine. And then Betsy came home, and reviled me for
throwing away the choicest