veled, loud and soft; it was quite pleasant to hear it.

"Do you feel better now? I am very glad. Bring in that reclining chair,
Ellis, from my room; these great seats are rather stiff," said the
Princess, and Delia, protesting, was made comfortable in a large curved
lounging basket, with the General, contentedly putting his clothespin
through its paces, in her arm.

"How old is it?" the Princess inquired after an interval of silence.

"He's eight months, madame, last week--eight months and ten days,
really."

"That's not very old, now, is it?" pursued the lady. "I suppose they
don't know very much, do they, so young?"

"Indeed he does, though," Delia protested. "You'll be surprised. Just
watch him, now. Look at Delia, darlin'; where's Delia?"

The General withdrew his lingering gaze from the clothespin, and turned
his blue eyes wonderingly up to her. The corners of his mouth trembled,
widened, his eyelids crinkled, and then he smiled delightfully, straight
into the eyes of the nurse, stretched up a wavering pink hand, and
patted her cheek. A soft, gurgling monosyllable, difficult of
classification but easy to interpret, escaped him.

The Princess smiled appreciatively, and moved with a stately, long step
toward them.

"That was very pretty," she said, but Delia did not hear her.

"My baby, my own baby!" she murmured with a shiver, and hiding her face
in the General's neck she sobbed aloud.

Miss Honey, shocked and embarrassed, twisted her feet nervously and
looked at the inlaid floor. Caroline shared these feelings, but though
she turned red, she spoke sturdily.

"I guess Delia feels bad," she suggested shyly, "when she thinks
about--about what happened, you know. She don't cry usu'lly."

[Illustration: "'I'VE GOT TWO O' MY OWN'"]

The Princess smiled again, this time directly at Caroline, who fairly
blinked in the radiance. With her long brown eyes still holding
Caroline's round ones, she patted Delia's shoulder kindly, and both
children saw her chin tremble.

The General, smothered in that sudden hug, whimpered a little and kicked
out wildly with his fat, white-stockinged legs. Seen from the rear he
had the appearance of a neat, if excited, package, unaccountably frilled
about with embroidered flannel. Delia straightened herself, dabbed
apologetically at her eyes, and coughed.

"It's bottle time," she announced in horror-stricken tones, consulting a
large nickel watch hanging from her belt, under th