ey had grown curiously used to each
other, these two. Emma found herself clinging to this man with the
tender eyes, and Buck held her close, regardless of train-schedules.
Emma rushed him to the platform and watched him, wide-eyed, as he swung
off the slowly moving train.

"Come on along!" she called, almost tearfully.

Buck looked up at her. At her trim, erect figure, at her clear
youthful coloring, at the brightness of her eye.

"If you want to get a reputation for comedy," he laughed, "tell
somebody on that train that you're going to visit your granddaughter."

Jock met her at the station in Chicago and drove her home in a very
dapper and glittering black runabout.

"Grace wanted to come down," he explained, as they sped along, "but
they're changing the baby's food or something, and she didn't want to
leave. You know those nurses." Emma felt a curious little pang. This
was her boy, her baby, talking about his baby and nurses. She had a
sense of unreality. He turned to her with shining eyes. "That's a
stunning get-up, Blonde. Honestly, you're a wiz, mother. Grace has told
all her friends that you're coming, and their mothers are going to
call. But, good Lord, you look like my younger sister, on the square
you do!"

The apartment reached, it seemed to Emma that she floated across the
walk and up the stairs, so eagerly did her heart cry out for a glimpse
of this little being who was flesh of her flesh. Grace, a little pale
but more beautiful than ever, met them at the door. Her arms went
about Emma's neck. Then she stood her handsome mother-in-law off and
gazed at her.

"You wonder! How lovely you look! Good heavens, are they wearing that
kind of hat in New York! And those collars! I haven't seen a thing
like 'em here. 'East is east and West is west and----'"

"Where's that child?" demanded Emma McChesney Buck. "Where's my baby?"

"Sh-sh-sh-sh!" came in a sibilant duet from Grace and Jock. "Not now.
She's sleeping. We were up with her for three hours last night. It
was the new food. She's not used to it yet."

"But, you foolish children, can't I peek at her?"

"Oh, dear, no!" said Grace hastily. "We never go into her room when
she's asleep. This is your room, mother dear. And just as soon as she
wakes up--this is your bath--you'll want to freshen up. Dear me; who
could have hung the baby's little shirt here? The nurse, I suppose.
If I don't attend to every little thing----"

Emma