n't she have gone in and fainted away somewhere where there
was more women than one," said Jane Riggs. "Doctor Sturtevant, he
sent me down for more newspapers."

"Take these, and go back at once," said Von Rosen, and he gathered up
the night papers in a crumpled heap and thrust them upon the woman.

"He said you had better telephone for Mrs. Bestwick," said Jane. Mrs.
Bestwick was the resident nurse of Fairbridge. Von Rosen sprang to
the telephone, but he could get no response whatever from the Central
office, probably on account of the ice-coated wires.

He sat down disconsolately, and the cat leapt upon his knees, but he
pushed him away impatiently, to be surveyed in consequence by those
topaz eyes with a regal effect of injury, and astonishment. Von Rosen
listened. He wondered if he heard, or imagined that he heard, a
plaintive little wail. The dog snuggled close to him, and he felt a
warm tongue lap. Von Rosen patted the dog's head. Here was sympathy.
The cat's leap into his lap had been purely selfish. Von Rosen
listened. He got up, and tried to telephone again, but got no
response from Central. He hung up the receiver emphatically and sat
down again. The dog again came close, and he patted the humble loving
head. Von Rosen listened again, and again could not be sure whether
he actually heard or imagined that he heard, the feeblest, most
helpless cry ever lifted up from this earth, that of a miserable new
born baby with its uncertain future reaching before it and all the
sins of its ancestors upon its devoted head.

When at last the door opened and Doctor Sturtevant entered, he was
certain. That poor little atom of humanity upstairs was lifting up
its voice of feeble rage and woe because of its entrance into
existence. Sturtevant had an oddly apologetic look. "I assure you I
am sorry, my dear fellow--" he began.

"Is the poor little beggar going to live?" asked Von Rosen.

"Well, yes, I think so, judging from the present outlook," replied
the doctor still apologetically.

"I could not get Mrs. Bestwick," said Von Rosen anxiously. "I think
the telephone is out of commission, on account of the ice."

"Never mind that. Your housekeeper is a jewel, and I will get Mrs.
Bestwick on my way home. I say, Von Rosen--"

Von Rosen looked at him inquiringly.

"Oh, well, never mind; I really must be off now," said the doctor
hurriedly. "I will get Mrs. Bestwick here as soon as possible. I
think--the child will have t