After a big meal, little Bessie climbs upon Sir Donald's lap and is soon
asleep. This pretty picture greets Esther and Charles on their return
from a lake stroll.

Esther's sympathies are aroused. She arranges the softest kind of a cot
in her own room. The downy spreads seem too heavy. Looking at the
portrait of Sister Edith, Esther's eyes glow with a peculiar light.

Having gently washed dirt-stains from the little hands, face, and feet,
Esther leads the way to where Sir Donald reluctantly deposits his new
ward.

A load lifts from his heart. Temporary specific is found for that
persistent heartsickness. The remedy seems so natural. Recent Paris and
Calcutta retrospect chides his dullness of perception. He now fears
"Granny" may veto the treatment.

Esther does not sleep well. She makes too many inspections of that cot.
The stone-bruises on Bessie's feet may prove fatal! What can cure the
sun-browned face and hands? Suppose the child should roll off on the
floor!

Two delicately embroidered handkerchiefs, saturated with healing lotion,
she bandages around those bruised soles. Tanned face and hands are
treated with other soothing liquid that does no harm. Chairs are placed
at sides and ends of the cot. Bessie is "bottled" in "effective
blockade" of cushioned upholstery.

A strange noise is heard. Intently watching the little sleeper, Esther
locates this vocal mystery. She fears Bessie's throat and lungs are
affected.

The spreads do not fit. A strange impulse comes. It dilates her vision.
She trembles a little.

Looking through the open door, Esther sees the smiling portraits of her
mother and Edith. Both profiles approve her caprice. She softly steps to
a curtained alcove. There, in mahogany and curved-glass wardrobe, are
relics of sister Edith.

Esther selects some downy hand-embroidered silk and lace-fringed
spreads. These replace those covering that besieged cot.

With tremulous content she takes a long, approving look at Bessie and
extinguishes the light.

Straits of one self-banished outlaw are not dreamed of this night.
Indefinite perils and unmerited gallows' menace to this interesting
erstwhile suitor startle not love-loyal girlish fancy.

Little bruised feet, sunburnt face and hands, with straggling blond
curls, usurp such function.

There is rustle of wings and happy smiling of familiar faces! The
panorama concludes with vision of sleeping waif, upon love-beleaguered
cot, illumined by mys