ead the truth in her troubled face.

"My--baby----" she gasped.

"She's gone, dearie--her mother took her away," the old lady said, her
arms about the girl. "I tried to make her wait till you came, but she
wouldn't."

"Gone--for good, you mean?" It was Lizette who questioned.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Morris, "she said so. She said you'd find a note
upstairs. Here's your key. I'm so sorry for you, child--O, so sorry!"

Olga made no reply--she could not find words then. She went slowly up
the stairs, Lizette following. Lighting the gas, she flashed a swift
glance about the room. The note lay on her workbench. She snatched it up
and read:

"I'm going with Dick--he came back a month ago. He says he's
turned over a new leaf, and he's got a job in New York. I've
always wanted to live in New York. Good-bye, Olga--be good to
yourself. Baby sends bye-bye to auntie.

"Sonia."

She handed the note to Lizette, who read it with a scowl. "Well, of all
the----" she began, but a glance from Olga stopped her. "Isn't there
_any_thing I can do?" she begged, her eyes full of tears.

"Nothing, thank you. I'll--I'll brace up as--as soon as I can, Lizette.
Good-night," Olga said gently, and Lizette went away, her honest heart
aching with sympathy for her friend, and Olga was alone in the place
that seemed so appallingly empty because a little child had gone out of
it.

But the next morning when Lizette came in Olga met her with a smile.

"I'm all right," she said. "I miss my baby every minute, but, Lizette, I
mean to be happy in spite of it, and I know you'll help me. Breakfast is
ready--you won't leave me to eat it alone?" Her brave smile brought a
lump into Lizette's throat.

So they dropped back into their old pleasant companionship, and the
girls came more often than before evenings, and Olga threw herself
whole-heartedly into Camp Fire work, seeking opportunities for service.
And the days slipped away and it was Christmas Eve again. Olga had spent
the evening in the Camp Fire room helping to put up greens and trim the
tree. She had a smile and a helping hand for every one, and Laura,
watching her, said to herself, "She is holding her torch high--the dear
child."

But it had not been easy--holding the torch high. On the way home the
reaction came, and Olga was silent. In the merry crowd, however, only
Elizabeth and Lizette noticed her silence, for Laura h