. It is astonishing what an amount of disturbance one small
pair of lungs can produce. It was not long before the anxious nurse,
listening with both ears for evidences that the family were aroused,
heard the tap of Celia's crutches, which the invalid had just learned to
use. And almost at the same moment Lanse's door opened and shut with a
bang.

"Here they come!" murmured Charlotte, trying distractedly to hush the
baby by means which were never known to have that effect upon a startled
infant in a strange house.

Her door swung open. Celia stood on the threshold, her eyes wide with
alarm. Lanse, lightly costumed in pink-and-white pajamas, gazed over her
shoulder.

"Charlotte Birch!" cried Celia, and words failed her. But Lanse was
ready of speech.

"What the dickens does this mean?" he inquired, wrathfully. "Have we
become an orphanage? I thought I heard singular sounds just after I got
to bed. Is there any good reason why the family shouldn't be informed of
what strange intentions you may have in your brain before you carry them
out? Whose youngster is it, and what are you doing with it here?"

Charlotte's lips were seen to move, but the baby's fright had received
such an accession from the appearance of two more unknown beings in the
room that nothing could be distinguished. What Charlotte said was,
"Please go away! I'll tell you in the morning." But the visitors,
failing to catch the appeal, not only did not go away, but moved nearer.

"Why, it's Annie Donohue's baby!" cried Celia, and shrieked the
information into Lanse's ear. His expression of disfavour relaxed a
degree, but he still looked preternaturally severe. Celia hobbled over
to the baby, and sitting down in a rocking-chair, held out her arms. But
Charlotte shook her head and motioned imperatively toward the door.

At this instant Jeff, in a red bathrobe, appeared in the doorway,
grasped the situation, nodded assurance to Charlotte, and hauled his
elder brother across the hall into his own room, where he closed the
door and explained in a few terse sentences:

"Annie died last night--to-night. We heard of it late, and Charlotte
thought she wouldn't disturb anybody. The doctor was there. He carried
the baby home. We couldn't leave her there. She was scared to death. She
knows Fiddle, and she'll grow quiet now if you people don't stand round
and insist on explanations being roared at you."

"But we can't keep a baby here," began Lanse, who had come