uce affidavits," Doctor Keltridge answered grimly. "What's
more, I am going to do it soon. They can make fools of themselves, if
they choose--only the dear Lord got ahead of them, and did it first;
but, while I live to fight, they shall not butcher their little
babies."

Reed nodded his approval. Then,--

"What did you do in this case?" he inquired, with more than a show of
interest.

"Called in a policeman to see fair play. As it happened, he had a child
of his own, so he fell to work in earnest. We turned out the woman,
packed off the family into the next room, and went to work with oil and
cotton. I'm afraid it was too late to do much good. If it was, though,
I'll promise you I'll make Rome howl."

"Can you?" Reed asked practically.

"At least, I can try. As I say, I'm fond of babies; they have so much
potential humanity bottled up inside of them. I will not have them
slaughtered, if I can help it." Then, to all seeming, he digressed
sharply. "By the way, Reed, have you seen the Brenton baby? No; of
course you haven't. It's five months, now, ugly as sin, and the
brightest little youngster you ever set your eyes on."

Opdyke stirred himself to a show of interest that was far from genuine.
He never had felt himself especially drawn to babies; they seemed to
him mussy and invertebrate. In fact, he realized with disconcerting
suddenness, they shared some of his own least lovely attributes.
However, whether the subject interested him or not, he would keep it up
as long as he could, for the simple sake of lengthening out the
doctor's visit. Therefore he said,--

"Brenton is immensely pleased with it."

"Well he may be. The baby is a charming little beggar, full of
ingratiating tricks, and anybody knows Brenton needs everything of that
kind he can get." Then swiftly the doctor brought his digression to a
focus. "Well, that's just a case in point," he said triumphantly.

Opdyke laughed.

"Really, doctor, I'm afraid I don't quite follow," he said.

"Your fault, boy. You've not been paying proper attention to me; you
were off on a sidetrack of your own laying. I was talking about the
Brenton baby and its chances to get fair play, especially when it comes
to teeth."

Light dawned on Opdyke.

"Oh, I see. You mean Mrs. Brenton may take a hand?"

"Morally sure. It's her child, too, worse luck! There is no legal help
for the bad matter--yet. She will insist upon it that sin has a claim
upon the child, and advise