isticated in a baby way. She had been given too many grand dolls not
to know just the sort she wanted. She did not know that what she wanted
cost money, but she knew the points desired--and they did cost money.
Aunt Evelyn had not much money.

"This one extravagant thing I will do," said Evelyn Bruce, "and I'll
give up my trip to England next week, and I'll do it in style. Robina
won't want dolls much longer and this time she's got to have her heart's
desire."

Which was doubtless foolish, yet when one is separated by an ocean and a
war from one's own, it is perhaps easier to be foolish for a child's
face and a child's voice, and love sent across the sea. So Evelyn Bruce
wrote a letter to her cousin in England saying that she could not come
to her till after Christmas. Then she went out into Paris and ordered
the doll, and reveled in the ordering, for a very gorgeous person indeed
it was, and worthy to journey from Paris to a little American. It was to
be ready in just two weeks, and Miss Bruce was to come in and look over
the fine lady and her equipment as often as desired, before she started
on her ocean voyage.

"It would simply break my heart if she were torpedoed."

Evelyn confided that, childlike, to the black-browed, stout Frenchwoman
who took a personal interest in every "buton," and then she opened her
bag and brought out Robina's photograph, standing, in a ruffled bonnet,
her solemn West Highland White terrier dog in her arms, on the garden
path of "Graystones" between tall foxgloves. And the Frenchwoman tossed
up enraptured hands at the beauty of the little girl who was to get the
doll, and did not miss the great, splendid house in the background, or
the fact that the dog was of a "_chic_" variety.

The two weeks fled, every day full of the breathless life--and death--of
a hospital in war-torn France. Every day the girl saw sights and heard
sounds which it seemed difficult to see and hear and go on living, but
she moved serene through such an environment, because she could help.
Every day she gave all that was in her to the suffering boys who were
carried, in a never-ending stream of stretchers, into the hospital. And
the strength she gave flowed back to her endlessly from, she could not
but believe it, the underlying source of all strength, which stretches
beneath and about us all, and from which those who give greatly know how
to draw.

Two or three times, during the two weeks, Evelyn had gone in to i