ded to me the fact that
she was to mind Baby Paul during our absence.

"The doctor is going to cut the poor lamb's throat and it is terrible,
Monsieur, but she is not afraid. I am going away for a half an hour now,
because it will do no harm to burn a candle before the Blessed Virgin
for the success of the operation. Yes, I think I will put two candles.
Now if Monsieur believed----"

I swiftly pulled a bill from my trousers pocket.

"Here, Eulalie, is a dollar," I told her. "You will be so good as to
dispose of it as if I were a brother to a cardinal. Faith, I believe,
comes before hope and charity. Would that mine were as strong as your
own, especially as concerns a certain friend of mine. Hurry away and
return with seven-leagued boots."

"Monsieur is a very good man; any one can see that. _Ca vous portera
bonheur._"

Her assurance that my offering would bring me happiness comforted me, I
think. Few of us can resist the temptation to think that luck is a manna
whose falling may occasionally be guided by our actions, and that
ill-chance may be averted by touching wood or, as is the way of
Italians, extending the fore and little finger as a safeguard against
the evil eye.

For a time, I sought to read, but the pages of the Sunday papers seemed
to be blurred. I paced the room, nervously, thinking of Gordon and of
Frances. The latter had described her recent visits to the studio as
funereal functions, during which Gordon painted fast and doggedly, while
biting at the stem of an empty pipe, and occasionally swore at the
canvas. Sometimes, he tired her nearly to death, working for hours
without interruption, while, on other occasions, he insisted on her
resting every few minutes and called himself a brute for taking
advantage of her patience.

"But then, you know, Mr. McGrath is a very peculiar man," she said, as
if this condoned all his faults.

Presently, Eulalie returned, knocking violently at my door, and assured
me that every cent of my dollar was now burning brightly, where it would
do most good, and informed me that the two ladies were waiting for me.

"It is time to go, Dave," said Frieda, who seemed to be making hard
weather of her efforts at composure. "Frances is all ready and Baby Paul
is sleeping. Eulalie will take the best care of him. Come along!"

And so we trooped off to Dr. Porter's office. He was waiting for us,
clad in an immaculate white jacket. Frances entrusted her hat to Frieda
and sat do