The baby pulled continuously at the bottle. Rosie had to lift the lower end higher and higher. After a long while, the baby dropped the nipple with a little sigh of relaxation. Her eyes, which had been growing heavier and heavier closed ... opened ... closed.... Now she was asleep. “I don’t know what her feeding hours are,” Rosie said. “I’ll give her another feeding at four this afternoon. I’m going to fix the alarm clock so that I’ll wake at ten to-night, then I’ll let her go until morning. I don’t believe she has more than one night feeding. Even if she does, she can get along without it, one night. She seems famished now though. I never saw such a hungry baby.” “You wake me up,” Maida said almost jealously. “Remember she’s _my_ baby.” “Yes,” Rosie agreed, “I’ll wake you.” She knit her satiny brows. “I wonder whose baby she is? They must be awfully worried about her by this time.” “Oh, I left a note,” Maida protested. “Are you sure you left it where they’d see it?” Maida nodded. “I put a stone on it to hold it down and I surrounded it by other pages that I tore out of my diary and put stones on them. You could not fail to see it.” Rosie lifted the baby and carried it to her bed. “I don’t think she could fall off,” she said. “But to make sure I’ll put chairs up against her and bank her around with pillows. Now we’d better let her sleep.” In the meantime, Arthur had finished his telephoning. Mrs. Dore was as well as could be expected; was resting quietly. The break was a simple one. All she needed, in order to recover, was time and rest. The three boys had managed to stop Delia’s sobs; had captured the five other children and were keeping them quiet. Now they bombarded Maida with questions. For the third time, Maida told the story of the baby. “Well, Maida, you certainly were brave,” Laura declared, “to follow that noise until you found out what it was. I would have run as fast as I could and as far as I could. That is, if I hadn’t fainted.” “No,” Maida protested, “I wasn’t brave I wish I had been. At first I was as frightened as I could be. But when it flashed on me that it was a baby crying, it didn’t take any courage to find out where the baby was.” “I wonder whose baby it is,” Harold said. Everybody said this at least once, everybody except Arthur, but Arthur said nothing. He was thinking hard. “Something queer happened to me the other night,” he broke out suddenly. “I didn’t tell you all about it because--because--Well somehow I couldn’t. I didn’t know what the answer was and I was ashamed that a girl could beat me like that.” “Like what?” Rosie demanded. “What are you talking about? Oh, Arthur, do tell us!” Arthur related in all its detail his experience with Silva Burle. “It made me wild,” he admitted, “to think that a girl could find a path that I couldn’t see and get away from me when I could run twice as fast as she--Well not twice as fast,” he corrected himself honestly, “but a great deal faster.”