assing memory of the pillow reposing
on the lawn outside her window. "After all, Babe, I think you lack the
real artist's devotion to your work. Even mumps ought to be beautiful in
your eyes and meningitis a delight to your soul. The day will come that
you will give up medicine and take a course in plain cooking, now mark
my words."

"Thanks; but I prefer tibias to tomatoes," Phebe responded. "When I am
the great Dr. McAlister, you will change your tune."

"There will never be but one great Dr. McAlister," Theodora answered
loyally. "No, mother, I must not stay to lunch, not even if Babe would
grill her tibia for me. Billy gets very grumpy, if I leave him alone at
his meals. Good-bye, Babe. Don't let anything happen to your grooves."

She went away with a laugh on her lips; but the laugh vanished, as she
went up to her writing-room once more and paused for a moment before her
closed desk. Then her face cleared, as she hurriedly put herself into
Billy's favorite gown and ran down the stairs to meet him in the hall.
The woes of book-making and the worries of her family never clouded
Theodora's welcome to her husband.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Teddy, did you ever hear me say anything about Gertrude Keith?"

"Why--yes. Wasn't she the cousin who married Harry Everard?"

"Your memory does you credit." Mr. Farrington's eyes belied his
bantering tone.

"What about her?"

"Nothing about her. She died, the year before we were married, and left
Harry with this one daughter. He has had a housekeeper since then; but
the housekeeper took unto herself a husband, a third one, a month ago.
Now Harry has been having pneumonia and is ordered to southern France for
a while, and he wants to know if the child can come to us."

"What?" Theodora's tone was charged with consternation.

"Isn't it awful? And yet I am sorry for him. We're the nearest relatives
the child has except Joe Everard, and naturally she can't be left to the
mercies of a bachelor uncle. What shall we do, Ted?"

For one short instant, Theodora stared into the fire. Then she looked up
into her husband's blue eyes.

"Take her, of course," she said briskly.

Mr. Farrington had never outgrown certain of his lover-like habits. Now
he stretched his hand out to hers for a minute.

"You're a comfort, Ted," he said. "I hated to refuse Harry, for his
letter was a blue one. Will she be horribly in the way?"

"No; I sha'n't let her," Theodora answered bluntly. "Don't wo