ad sent them all
home in the car, and the swift flight through the snowy streets was
exciting and exhilarating. The others called gay greetings and farewells
as they rolled away, leaving Olga and Lizette on the steps in the
moonlight.

At Lizette's door Olga said good-night and went across to her own room.
Closing the door behind her she dropped into a chair by the window, and
suddenly she realised that she was very tired and O, so lonely! She
longed for the pressure of a little head on her arm--for tiny fingers
curling about hers--she wanted her baby.

"O, why couldn't I keep her? Sonia doesn't care for her--she doesn't!
And I do. I want my baby!" she cried into the night.

But again after a little she caught back her courage. "I'm
ashamed--ashamed!" she said aloud. "I'm not playing fair. I've got to be
happy if I can't have my baby, and I will. But, O, if I were only sure
that she is cared for!"

At that moment there came a low rap on her door. Going to it, she
called, "Who is it? Who is there?" but she did not open the door.

There was no reply, only the sound of soft retreating footsteps.

"Somebody going by," she said, turning away, but as she did so she
thought she heard a little whimpering cry outside. Instantly she flung
the door open, and there in a basket lay her baby.

"It--it _can't_ be!" Olga cried out, incredulous. Then she caught up the
baby and hugged her till the little thing whimpered again, half afraid.
"O, it is--it _is_!" Olga cried. "You blessed darling--if I could only
keep you forever!" Still holding the child close, she snatched up the
basket, shut the door, and lit the gas. In the basket she found a note
from her sister.

"I'm sending back the baby [it read]; I only took her to scare
you--just to pay you off for nagging me so about work. You can
have her now for keeps. Dick doesn't care for children and they
are an awful bother, and you've spoiled this one anyhow, fussing
so over her. I reckon you and I aren't exactly congenial, and I
shan't trouble you any more unless Dick goes back on me again,
and I don't think he will.

"Sonia."

Through the still night air came the sound of bells--Christmas bells
ringing in the Great Day. To Olga they seemed to call softly:

"'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.'"

Printed in the United States of America

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