r old Dave," said Frieda encouragingly. "Don't worry, I'm sure it
will sell just like the others."

"I hope so, and now what do you say to celebrating that new hat by going
over to Camus for dinner?"

"Oh! I couldn't think of such a thing!" exclaimed Frances Dupont.
"In--in the first place it is much too soon--after--and then you know I
haven't a thing to wear."

"In the first place, not a soul will know you at Camus," said Frieda
firmly, "and, in the second, you have a hat anyway, and I'm going to fix
that black dress a little. Just a dozen stitches and some pins. Come
into your room with me."

She dragged her out of the room, and I was left to wonder how that
complicating baby would be disposed of. I had begun to think the infant
sometimes recognized me. When I touched one of his little hands with my
finger, he really appeared to respond with some manifestations of
pleasure; at least it never seemed to terrify or dismay him. His mother
was confident that he liked it.

Perhaps an hour later they came out, and I looked at Frances in some
surprise. I gained the impression that she was taller and more slender
than I had thought.

"You give me that baby," commanded Frieda. "I want you to save your
strength, my dear. I should make David carry it, but he would drop it or
hold it upside down. Come along, my precious, we're going out to walk a
by-by."

Master Paul seemed to make no objection. I call it a dreadful shame that
Frieda never married and had a half a dozen of her own. She's the most
motherly old maid in the world, and infants take to her with absolute
enthusiasm. I followed them, somewhat doubtfully, wondering what figure
Master Paul would cut at Camus. I knew that they allowed little dogs and
there was a big tortoise-shell cat that wandered under the chairs and
sometimes scratched your knee for a bit of fish, but I had never seen
any young babies in the widow's establishment. This one might be deemed
revolutionary or iconoclastic. Should we be met by uplifted and
deprecating palms and informed with profuse apologies that the rules of
the house did not favor the admission of such youthful guests?

In a few minutes my doubts were set at rest, for we walked off to the
hive inhabited by the washerwoman. At the foot of the stairs Mrs.
Dupont kissed her baby, as if she were seeing it for the last time. Then
Frieda hastened upstairs with it and came down, two minutes later,
blowing like a porpoise.

"He'll be