u lovely, lovely baby," she cried, "are you glad to see me?"

For answer the little one cooed sweetly, and snatched at Flossie's
curling hair.

"Mustn't pull so hard, baby," pleaded Flossie, and just at that moment
the maid returned, and rescued Flossie's ringlets from the little
dimpled hands.

"You give her to me," said Flossie.

"I'll sit on this rug and hold her. Uncle Harry said I could take this
baby any time I want to, and I want to now."

The maid waited for no urging. Here was a chance for a few more moments
of gossip. If Miss Flossie wished to take care of the baby, why not
permit her to? Her Uncle Harry had given his permission, and as it was
his baby, who could object?

For a few moments Flossie and the baby played upon the great hall rug.
The bright-colored ball which Flossie had taken from her pocket was a
pretty plaything, and the baby crowed with delight.

The butler and the maids were in the butler's pantry at the rear of the
hall, but while their voices could be plainly heard, Flossie noticed
nothing which they said until the maid spoke of the baby.

"She ees well, the petite belle, but upon her cheek the, what ees eet
the doctaire did say?"

"Sure, Marie, 'tis a ould-fashioned rash, an' manny's the toime Oive
seen ut on a babby's face, an' whoile the docthor makes a fuss about
it, it's just nothin' at all, at all," responded Bridget.

"I'm thinkin' it don't pay to let it go an' not have the doctor see
about it," growled the butler in a deep bass voice.

"An' ain't they seein' about it wid all their eyes, the ould docthor
a-peekin' at the swate little thing t'rough his goggles, an' puttin' a
wee bit t'ermom'ter into her mouth what for I do' 'no' unless 'tis ter
foind out if it's near toime fer her ter be a-talkin'."

"He's very ugly, le m'sieur doctaire; if he was fine to behold it would
be well. And what said he of the child? That at home she could not
remain? If they do away take her M'sieur Harry will weep his fine eyes
out."

"Oh, you little Frenchie!" exclaimed the butler with a jolly laugh, "you
get things mixed. If it's nothing but a rash, as Bridget says, she'll
stay here, but if it's measles she'll be hurried off up-stairs, and--"

"An' be _quarantained_, Oim tould," interrupted Bridget.

"Oh, Breejhay, what _ees_ that?" cried the little French maid, and
Flossie waited to hear no more.

_Quarantined_! Oh, what a big word, and what _did_ it mean? Who was
going to do _that_ t