cally correct bottles of food were
ready, one for each baby, he turned suddenly to his wife and said:
"Don't you want to--hold them, Rose?" She'd have held a couple of
glowing brands in her arms for him, the way he had looked and the way
he had said it.

A stab of pain went through her and tears came up into her eyes. "Yes,
give them to me," she started to say.

But Mrs. Ruston spoke before she could frame the words. It was their
feeding hour, she pointed out; a bad time for them to be excited, and
the bottles were heated exactly right.

By that time Rose's idea had flowered into resolution. She knew exactly
what she was going to do. But she mustn't jeopardize the success of her
plan by trying to put it into effect too soon.

She waited patiently, reasonably, for another fortnight. Harriet by that
time had gone off to Washington on a visit, taking Rodney's heartfelt
thanks with her. Rose expressed hers just as warmly, and felt ashamed
that they were so unreal. She simply mustn't let herself get to
resenting Harriet! At the end of the fortnight, the doctor made his
final visit. Rose had especially asked Rodney to be on hand to hear his
report when the examination was over. Rose and the doctor found him
waiting in the library.

"He says," Rose told her husband, "that I'm perfectly well." She turned
to the doctor for confirmation, "Don't you?"

The doctor smiled. "As far as my diagnostic resources go, Mrs. Aldrich,
you are perfectly well."

Rodney was pleased of course, and expressed this feeling fervently. But
he looked across at his glowing radiant wife, with a touch of misgiving.

"What are you trying to put over on me?" he asked.

"Not a thing," said Rose demurely. "I thought you'd be glad to know that
I needn't be kept in cotton-wool any more, and that you'd feel surer of
it if he told you."

"I feel surer that you've got something up your sleeve," he said. And,
to the doctor: "I don't imagine that in saying my wife is perfectly
well, you mean to suggest an absence of all reasonable caution."

The doctor took the hint, expatiated largely; it was always well to be
careful--one couldn't, in fact, be too careful. The human body at best,
more especially the--ah--feminine human body, was a delicate machine,
not to be abused without inviting serious consequences. He was even a
little reproachful about it.

"But there's no more reason, is there," Rose persisted, "why I should be
careful than why any other woma