in and the nurse. The window was partially
open. Rosamund believed in plenty of air for her child, and no
"cosseting"; she laughed to scorn, but genially, the nurse's prejudice
against "the night air."

"My child," she said, "must get accustomed to night as well as day,
Nurse--and the sooner the better." So now "Master Robin" was played upon
by a little wind from Westminster. He seemed in no way alarmed by it.
This evening he was serene, and when his father entered the room he
assumed his expression of mild inquiry, vaguely agitated his small
rose-colored fists, and blew forth a welcoming bubble.

Dion was touched at the sight.

"Little rogue!" he said, bending over Robin. "Little, little rogue!"

Robin raised his, as yet scarcely defined, eyebrows, stared tremendously
hard at the nursery atmosphere, pulled out his wet lips and gurgled, at
the same time wagging his head, now nicely covered with silky fair hair,
or down, whichever you chose to call it.

"He knows his papa, ma'am, and that he does, a boy!" said the nurse,
who approved of Dion, and had said below stairs that he was "as good a
husband as ever wore shoe-leather."

"Of course he does," said Rosamund softly. "Babies have plenty of
intelligence of a kind, and I think it's a darling kind."

Dion sat down beside her, and they both bent over Robin in the gathering
twilight, while the nurse went softly out of the room.

Dion had quite forgotten the Clarke case.

CHAPTER V

Three days later Daventry called in Little Market Street early, and
was shown into the dining-room where he found Rosamund alone at the
breakfast-table.

"Do forgive me for bursting in upon the boiled eggs," he said, looking
unusually excited. "I'm off almost directly to the Law Courts and I want
to take Dion with me. It's the last day of Mrs. Clarke's case. We expect
the verdict some time this evening. I dare say the court will sit late.
Where's Dion?"

"He's just coming down. We were both disturbed in the night, so we slept
later than usual."

"Disturbed? Burglars? Fire?"

"No; Robin's not at all well."

"I say! I'm sorry for that. What is it?"

"He's had a very bad throat and been feverish, poor little chap. But I
think he's better this morning. The doctor came."

"You'll never be one of the fussy mothers."

"I hope not," she said, rather gravely; "I'm not fond of them. Here's
Dion."

Daventry sat with them while they breakfasted, and Dion agreed to keep
his promi