The man took in at a glance the neat uniform of the nurse, the General's
smart, if diminutive, apparel, and the unmistakable though somewhat
ruffled exterior of Miss Honey.

"Very well, sir," he said, politely, taking the card. "It will be all
right, sir, I'm sure. Thank you, sir. Sit down, please. It will be all
right. I will tell Madame Nicola."

"Well, well, so this is Madame Nicola's!" The little doctor looked
around him appreciatively, as the servant ran up the stairs.

"I wish I could stay with you, chickens, but I'm late for an appointment
as it is. I must rush along. Now, mind you, stay here half an hour,
Delia, and sit down. You're no trouble at all, and Madame Nicola knows
who I am--if she remembers. I sprayed her throat once, if I'm not
mistaken--she was on a tour, at Pittsburg. She'll take care of you." He
opened the door. "You're a good girl, you biggest one," he added,
nodding at Caroline. "You do as you're told. Good-bye."

[Illustration: "YOUNG GIRLS ... CANTERED BY; THEIR LINEN HABITS ROSE AND
FELL DECOROUSLY, THEIR HAIR WAS SMOOTH"]

The door shut, and Caroline, Miss Honey, and Delia looked at each other
in a daze. Tears filled Delia's eyes, but she controlled her voice and
only said huskily, "Come here, Miss Honey, and let me brush you off--you
look dreadful. Did it--were you--are you hurt, dear?"

"No, but you pushed me awful hard, Delia, and a nasty big man grabbed me
and tore my guimpe--see! I wish you'd told me what you were going to
do," began Miss Honey irritably.

"And you gave me a big kick--it was _me_ he grabbed--look at my cheek!"
Caroline's lips began to twitch; she felt hideously tired, suddenly.

"Children, children, don't quarrel. General, darling, _won't_ you sit
still, please? You hurt Delia's knees, and you feel so heavy. Oh, I wish
we were all home!"

The man in uniform came down the stairs. "Will you all step up, madame
says, and she has something for you up there. I'll take the baby," as
Delia's eyes measured the climb. "Lord, I won't drop her--I've got two
o' my own. 'Bout a year, isn't she?"

"He's a boy," panted Delia, as she rested her weight on the rail, "and
he's only eight months last week," with a proud smile at the General's
massive proportions.

"Well, he _is_ a buster, isn't he? Here is the nurse, madame, and the
children. The doctor has gone."

Caroline stretched her eyes wide and abandoned herself to a frank
inspection of her surroundings. For this she