in a nutshell, yet seemed to count
herself a princess of infinite space--yes, in spite of bad dreams.
We--Doctor Stevens and I--had put her to bed in the large, coolly
distinguished corner room formerly occupied by Gertrude. This room
opened directly into my own. Doctor Stevens counselled bed for a few
days, and Susan seemed well content to obey his mandate. Meanwhile, I
had requested Mrs. Parrot to buy various necessities for
her--toothbrushes, nightdresses, day dresses, petticoats, and so on.
Mrs. Parrot had supposed I should want the toilet articles inexpensive,
and the clothing plain but good.

"Good, by all means, Mrs. Parrot," I had corrected, "but not plain. As
pretty and frilly as possible!"

Mrs. Parrot had been inclined to argue the matter.

"When that poor little creature goes from here," she had maintained,
"flimsy, fussy things will be of no service to her. None. She'll need
coarse, substantial articles that will bear usage."

"Do you like to wear coarse, substantial articles, Mrs. Parrot?" I had
mildly asked. "So far as I am permitted to observe----"

Mrs. Parrot had resented the implication. "I hope in my outer person,
Mr. Hunt, that I show a decent respect for my employers, but I've never
been one to pamper myself on linjery, if I may use the word--not
believing it wholesome. Nor to discuss it with gentlemen. But if I don't
know what it's wisest and best to buy in this case, who," she had
demanded of heaven, "does?"

"Possibly," heaven not replying, had been my response, "_I_ do. At any
rate, I can try."

It was fun trying. I ran down on the eight o'clock to New York and
strolled up and down Fifth Avenue, shopping here and there as the fancy
moved me. Shopping--with a well-filled pocketbook--is not a difficult
art. Women exaggerate its difficulties for their own malign purposes. In
two hours of the most casual activity I had bought a great number of
delightful things--for my little daughter, you know. Her age?... Oh,
well--I should think about fourteen. Let's call it 'going on fourteen.'
Then it's sure to be all right.

It _was_ all right--essentially. By which I mean that the parties of the
first and second parts--to wit, Susan and I--were entirely and
blissfully satisfied.

Susan liked particularly a lacy sort of nightgown all knotted over with
little pink ribbony rosebuds; there was a coquettish boudoir cap to
match it--suggestive somehow of the caps village maidens used to wear in
old-fas