The garments that looked chic in the
windows or on manikins in the shops, were absurd on her. Her insistent
bosom bulged, straight lines became curves or tortuous zigzags, plackets
gaped, collars choked her or shocked her by their absence. In the mirror
of Marie Jedlicka, clad in familiar garments that had accommodated
themselves to the idiosyncrasies of her figure, Mrs. Boyer was a plump,
rather comely matron. Here before the plate glass of the modiste, under
the glare of a hundred lights, side by side with a slim Austrian girl
who looked like a willow wand, Mrs. Boyer was grotesque, ridiculous,
monstrous. She shuddered. She almost wept.

It was bad preparation for a visit to the Siebensternstrasse. Mrs.
Boyer, finding her vanity gone, convinced that she was an absurdity
physically, fell back for comfort on her soul. She had been a good wife
and mother; she was chaste, righteous. God had been cruel to her in the
flesh, but He had given her the spirit.

"Madame wishes not the gown? It is beautiful--see the embroidery! And
the neck may be filled with chiffon."

"Young woman," she said grimly, "I see the embroidery; and the neck
may be filled with chiffon, but not for me! And when you have had five
children, you will not buy clothes like that either."

All the kindliness was gone from the visit to the Siebensternstrasse;
only the determination remained. Wounded to the heart of her
self-esteem, her pride in tatters, she took her way to the old lodge and
climbed the stairs.

She found a condition of mild excitement. Jimmy had slept long after his
bath. Harmony practiced, cut up a chicken for broth, aired blankets for
the chair into which Peter on his return was to lift the boy.

She was called to inspect the mouse-cage, which, according to Jimmy, had
strawberries in it.

"Far back," he explained. "There in the cotton, Harry."

But it was not strawberries. Harmony opened the cage and very tenderly
took out the cotton nest. Eight tiny pink baby mice, clean washed by the
mother, lay curled in a heap.

It was a stupendous moment. The joy of vicarious parentage was Jimmy's.
He named them all immediately and demanded food for them. On Harmony's
delicate explanation that this was unnecessary, life took on a new
meaning for Jimmy. He watched the mother lest she slight one. His
responsibility weighed on him. Also his inquiring mind was very busy.

"But how did they get there?" he demanded.

"God sent them, just as he se