eight ounces since its coming to Ingleside. Rilla had
felt such a thrill of pride over this.

"You--you said it mightn't live if it went to Hopetown," she said.

"It mightn't. Somehow, institutional care, no matter how good it may
be, doesn't always succeed with delicate babies. But you know what it
means if you want it kept here, Rilla."

"I've taken care of it for a fortnight--and it has gained half a
pound," cried Rilla. "I think we'd better wait until we hear from its
father anyhow. He mightn't want to have it sent to an orphan asylum,
when he is fighting the battles of his country."

The doctor and Mrs. Blythe exchanged amused, satisfied smiles behind
Rilla's back; and nothing more was said about Hopetown.

Then the smile faded from the doctor's face; the Germans were twenty
miles from Paris. Horrible tales were beginning to appear in the papers
of deeds done in martyred Belgium. Life was very tense at Ingleside for
the older people.

"We eat up the war news," Gertrude Oliver told Mrs. Meredith, trying to
laugh and failing. "We study the maps and nip the whole Hun army in a
few well-directed strategic moves. But Papa Joffre hasn't the benefit
of our advice--and so Paris--must--fall."

"Will they reach it--will not some mighty hand yet intervene?" murmured
John Meredith.

"I teach school like one in a dream," continued Gertrude; "then I come
home and shut myself in my room and walk the floor. I am wearing a path
right across Nan's carpet. We are so horribly near this war."

"Them German men are at Senlis. Nothing nor nobody can save Paris now,"
wailed Cousin Sophia. Cousin Sophia had taken to reading the newspapers
and had learned more about the geography of northern France, if not
about the pronunciation of French names, in her seventy-first year than
she had ever known in her schooldays.

"I have not such a poor opinion of the Almighty, or of Kitchener," said
Susan stubbornly. "I see there is a Bernstoff man in the States who
says that the war is over and Germany has won--and they tell me
Whiskers-on-the-moon says the same thing and is quite pleased about it,
but I could tell them both that it is chancy work counting chickens
even the day before they are hatched, and bears have been known to live
long after their skins were sold."

"Why ain't the British navy doing more?" persisted Cousin Sophia.

"Even the British navy cannot sail on dry land, Sophia Crawford. I have
not given up hope, and I shall