the door in response
to a knock in the late afternoon, she saw the nurse who had taken care
of her in the summer.

"O, I'm so glad it's you, Miss Kennan!" she cried. "Do come in and tell
me what ails this baby."

"A _baby_! Whose is it?" the nurse asked; but as she looked at the
child, she forgot her question. "The poor little soul!" she exclaimed.
Then with a quick sharp glance at the girl, "What have you been giving
it?"

"Giving it?" Olga echoed. "Why, nothing except her food."

"What kind of food--milk?"

"Milk, and this." Olga brought a bottle of the malted food.

"That's all right. Let me see some of the milk," the nurse ordered.

She looked at the milk, smelt it, tasted it. "That seems all right too,"
she declared. "And you've put nothing--no medicine of any sort--in her
food?"

"Why, of course not."

"Do you prepare her food always?"

"Not always. Her mother--my sister--fixes it some times."

"Ah!" said the nurse.

"What do you mean, Miss Kennan? What is the matter with the baby?"

"She's been doped," answered the nurse shortly. "Soothing syrup or
something probably, to keep her quiet. Sleeps a lot, doesn't she?"

"Yes. She never seems really awake. O Miss Kennan, I never knew----"

"I see. Well, you'll have to know now. Find out what has been given her,
and fix all her food after this, yourself. Can you?"

"I don't know. I'll try to."

"If you don't, she won't need food much longer," said the nurse.

"O, how can any one be so wicked!" cried Olga.

"It isn't wickedness--it's ignorance mostly--laziness sometimes, when a
mother doesn't want to be troubled with the care of a baby. Probably
this one had an overdose this morning."

Olga stood silently thinking. Yes, Sonia had given the baby her bottle
that morning, and always gave it to her at night. She went into the
bedroom and searched the closet and the bed. Sonia usually made the bed.
Under the pillow Olga found a bottle which she handed without a word,
to the nurse. Miss Kennan nodded.

"That's it," she said briefly.

Opening the window Olga flung the bottle passionately into the street.

"Can't you do anything to--to counteract it?" she questioned, her face
as white as the child's.

"I'll bring you something," the nurse said, "and now you must stop
worrying. You can't take proper care of this baby if you are in a white
heat--she'll feel the mental atmosphere. I wish I could take her home
with me to-night."

"You can. I wish you