you know you said you'd be gone ten minutes," Arkwright reminded
her, politely.

"Yes, I know I did." And Billy, to her credit, did not even smile at the
man who did not know ten minutes from fifty.

CHAPTER XXX. BY A BABY'S HAND

After all, it was the baby's hand that did it, as was proper, and
perhaps to be expected; for surely, was it not Bertram, Jr.'s place to
show his parents that he was, indeed, no Wedge, but a dear and precious
Tie binding two loving, loyal hearts more and more closely together?
It would seem, indeed, that Bertram, Jr., thought so, perhaps, and very
bravely he set about it; though, to carry out his purpose, he had to
turn his steps into an unfamiliar way--a way of pain, and weariness, and
danger.

It was Arkwright who told Bertram that the baby was very sick, and
that Billy wanted him. Bertram went home at once to find a distracted,
white-faced Billy, and a twisted, pain-racked little creature, who it
was almost impossible to believe was the happy, laughing baby boy he had
left that morning.

For the next two weeks nothing was thought of in the silent old Beacon
Street house but the tiny little life hovering so near Death's door
that twice it appeared to have slipped quite across the threshold.
All through those terrible weeks it seemed as if Billy neither ate
nor slept; and always at her side, comforting, cheering, and helping
wherever possible was Bertram, tender, loving, and marvelously
thoughtful.

Then came the turning point when the universe itself appeared to
hang upon a baby's breath. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, came the
fluttering back of the tiny spirit into the longing arms stretched so
far, far out to meet and hold it. And the father and the mother, looking
into each other's sleepless, dark-ringed eyes, knew that their son was
once more theirs to love and cherish.

When two have gone together with a dear one down into the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, and have come back, either mourning or rejoicing, they
find a different world from the one they had left. Things that were
great before seem small, and some things that were small seem great.
At least Bertram and Billy found their world thus changed when together
they came back bringing their son with them.

In the long weeks of convalescence, when the healthy rosiness stole
bit by bit into the baby's waxen face, and the light of recognition and
understanding crept day by day into the baby's eyes, there was many