The particular book I wanted was being read by a snuffy old gentleman, seated at the long table in the Department of History. I wondered why he should be interested in the frocks and flounces of a past century, and asked for a volume on Charles the Great, a ponderous tome I carried reverently to the big oaken table. It was exceedingly warm, and flies were buzzing drowsily. A big handsome girl was extracting wisdom from a dusty folio and taking notes on sheets of yellow paper. I remember that her face was finely colored and her lashes long. Three chairs away, on the opposite side, a little deformed man looked up from his book, stealthily, and glanced at her. She never saw him, I am very certain, nor was she ever conscious of the deep-set and suffering eyes that feasted on her beauty. To him she could be no more than a splendid dream, something as far from his reach as the Koh-i-noor might be from mine. But I wondered whether such visions may not be predestined parts of life, making for happiness and charm. The young women at Mrs. Milliken's, who sell candy, will hand you out material sugar-plums, yet even those have but an evanescent flavor and become only memories. Frieda has returned my twenty-dollar bill, which I stuffed in my pocket. "One has to be very careful about such things," she told me. "Neither of us would offend the poor thing for any consideration. I have found out that she has a little money, but it cannot be very much because she was very anxious about the doctor's fee and how much Eulalie would charge. But I didn't think it best to proffer any help just now, saving such as we can render by making her feel that she has a friend or two in the world. Isn't it hot?" I assured her that it was and said I was very glad that Mrs. Dupont was not quite destitute. By this time the baby was a week old and most reasonably silent. Mrs. Milliken felt reassured, and the two young women who sold candy had come up, one evening, to admire the infant. From the goodness of their hearts they had brought an offering of gummy sweets, which I subsequently confiscated and bestowed upon Eulalie for her sister's children, who, she assures me, are to be envied in the possession of iron stomachs. The commercial young men have instinctively slammed their doors less violently, and the deaf old lady, precluded by age from ascending to top floors, sent up a pair of microscopic blue and white socks and a receipt for the fashioning of junket, which, I understand, is an edible substance. "Tell you what!" exclaimed Frieda. "You might take me to Camus this evening. Dutch treat, you know. I insist on it. I'm tired to-day and don't want to wrestle with my gas-stove. Besides, I want to talk to you about Kid Sullivan." "I'm afraid I'm unacquainted with the youthful Hibernian," I said. "Is it another baby that you take a vicarious interest in?"