itself for this little warworn child, they were thoroughly
surprised.

Their surprise, however, did not prevent them from rising to meet the
situation. Indeed, it would have been hard for any one to resist the
appeal made by the pale little creature whose hands were too weak to do
more than clutch faintly at a finger and whose eyes were too weary to
smile.

Mrs. Morton took her to her arms and heart at once. So did all the
members of the Club and it was when they gave a cheer for "Elisabeth of
Belgium," that she made her first attempt at laughter. Mademoiselle had
written that her name was Elisabeth and the nurse said that she called
herself that, but, so far as her new friends could find out, that was
the extent of her vocabulary. "Ayleesabet," she certainly was, but the
remainder of her remarks were not only few but so uncertain that they
could not tell whether she was trying to speak Flemish or French or a
language of her own.

The nurse was obliged to return at once to New York, and the Mortons
found themselves at nightfall in the position of having an unexpected
guest for whom there was no provision. Even the wardrobe of the new
member of the family was almost nothing, consisting of the garments she
was wearing and an extra gingham dress which a woman in the steerage of
the ship had taken from her own much larger child to give to the waif.

"Ayleesabet" ate her supper daintily, like one who has been so near the
borderland of starvation that he cannot understand the uses of plenty,
and then she went heavily to sleep in Ethel Blue's lap before the fire
in the living room.

Aunt Louise and Dorothy came over from their cottage to join the
conference.

"It is really a considerable problem," said Mrs. Morton thoughtfully.
"These children here say they are going to attend to her clothing, and
it's right they should, for she is the Club baby; but there are other
questions that are serious. Where, for instance, is she going to sleep?"

A laugh rippled over the room as she asked the question, for the
sleeping accommodations of the Morton house were regarded as a joke
since the family was so large and the house was so small that a guest
always meant a considerable process of rearrangement.

"It isn't any laughing matter, girls. She can have Dicky's old crib, of
course, but where shall we put it?"

"It's perfectly clear to me," said Mrs. Smith, responding to an
appealing glance from Dorothy, "that the baby must come