nest, done up in blue and silver,
and her boudoir, opening from it, was a dream of pink and white. Then
came the baby's quarters; the day nursery, gay with pictured walls and
the sun porch, bright and airy.

For the all-important baby was now two months old, and entitled to
consideration as a real member of the family.

Fleurette was her name, only selected after long thought and much
discussion. Bill had stood out for Patricia Fairfield Farnsworth, but
Patty declared no child of hers should be saddled with such a burden for
life! Then Bill declared it must be a diminutive, in some way, of the
mother's name, and as he always called Patty his Blossom Girl, the only
suggestion worth considering was something that meant Little Flower. And
as their stay in France had made the French language seem less foreign
than of yore, they finally chose Fleurette,--the Baby Blossom.

Farnsworth was a man of affairs, and had sometimes to go to Washington or
other distant cities on business, but not often or for a long stay. And
as Patty expressed it, that was a lot better than for him to have to go
to New York every day,--as so many men of their acquaintance did.

"I never thought I'd be as happy as this," Patty said, as, still holding
her baby, she sat rocking slowly, and gazing alternately at her husband
and her child.

"Why not?" Farnsworth inquired, as he lighted a fresh cigar.

"Oh, it's too much for any one mortal! Here I've the biggest husband in
the world, and the littlest baby--"

"Oh, come now,--that's no incubator chick!"

"No, she's fully normal size, Nurse says, but she's a tiny mite as yet,"
and Patty cuddled the mite in an ecstasy of maternal joy.

"I thought friend Nurse wouldn't let you snuggle the kiddy like that."

"She doesn't approve,--but she's still at her lunch and when the cat's
away--"

And then the white uniformed nurse appeared, and smiled at pretty Patty
as she took the baby from her cuddling arms.

"Come for a ride, Patty _Maman_?" asked her husband, as they left the
little Fleurette's presence.

"No; let's go for a walk. I want to look over the west glade, and see if
it will stand a Japanese tea-house there."

"All right, come ahead. You've not forgotten your dinky tea-porch?"

"No; but this is different. A tea-house is lovely, and--"

"All right, Madame Butterfly, have one if you like. Come down this way."

They went along a picturesque path, between two rocky ravines,--a bit
of real