Miss Canfield hesitated. "He's irritable," she said safely. Aunt Jane nodded. "That's good for him---- That won't hurt any! He's got his Suite and he's got the best 'special' in the house on his case." Miss Canfield's face softened subtly. "You tell him I'm busy," said Aunt Jane. "Tell him I'll come by and by, when I get around to it---- There's Miss Manners with a baby! I was just looking for a baby!" She hurried off. Miss Canfield watched, with amused face, while Aunt Jane gathered the baby into her ample arms and disappeared in Room 15. Then she turned back to report to Herman Medfield in Suite A that Aunt Jane would come when she was not so busy. Aunt Jane gazed shrewdly over the little bundle of blankets in her arms at Edith Dalton, sitting propped against her pillows and scowling a little discontentedly. Aunt Jane sat down and undid the blanket. "They're such cute little things," she said. "It don't seem as if there'd ever be enough of _him_ to make a man of, does it!" She held up the coming man in his long white gown. Edith Dalton glanced indifferently--and glanced away. The baby, out of his blue eyes, gazed at something unseen. "I always do wonder what they're looking at and what they're thinking about!" said Aunt Jane. She had gathered the baby comfortably up against the curve of her breast and was rocking gently back and forth. "I don't suppose they think about anything," said Edith Dalton with a look of unconcern. "I used to think maybe that was so," said Aunt Jane. "But since I've had so many of 'em----" "How many have you had?" asked the other quickly. "Of my own--you mean?" Aunt Jane paused. "I never had but one of my own," she said regretfully. "But here--I've had three hundred and sixty-nine." Edith Dalton smiled a faint smile. Aunt Jane watched it and rocked. "It's different when you've a good many," she said placidly. "You begin to see what they mean--just plain baby! Not because it's _your_ baby, you know--but what they're like and what they mean." "They don't mean much of anything, do they--except to cry?" The indifferent look held itself, but something had stirred in it. "Yes, they cry!" Aunt Jane was silent.... "They cry, good and hard sometimes.... And that means something, too. Folks don't let 'em cry half enough, _I_ think! I don't know what it means--their crying so," she admitted. "But it sounds as if it meant something--something more than just tummy-ache.... And their smiling's like that, too. It isn't just smiling at something you do to them, or something you say. It's more as if they were smiling at something inside--kind of as if the whole world was a joke to 'em, and being alive was a kind of beautiful joke--if we could see how 'tis." She was looking down at the bundle in her arms and smiling to it. Edith Dalton eyed it curiously.