Truly I was very glad to steal back into my dark room for a moment before trotting downstairs again to join all those others who were essentially intended for liking and loving, so eminently fitted, whether they refused or accepted it, for the full moral gamut of human experience. On my way down it was only human, of course, to stop in the May Girl's room. Rollins or no Rollins it was the May Girl's problem that seemed to me the only really maddening one of the moment. What in creation was life planning to proffer the May Girl?--Dr. Brawne?--Dr. Brawne?--It wasn't just a question of Dr. Brawne! But a question of the May Girl herself? She was still in her blanket-wrapper when I entered the room, but had hopped into bed, and sat bolt-up-right rocking vaguely, with her knees gathered to her chin in the circle of her slender arms. "What seems to be the matter?" I questioned. "That's what I don't know," she dimpled almost instantly. "But I seem to be worrying about something. "Worrying?" I puzzled. "Well,--maybe it's about the Pom dog," suggested the May Girl helpfully. "His mouth is so very--very tiny. Do you think he had enough supper?" "Oh, I'm sure he had enough supper," I hastened to reassure her. Very reflectively she narrowed her eyes to review the further field of her possible worries. "That cat--that your Husband said he sent away just before I came for fear I'd bring some--some contradictory animals--are you quite sure that he's got a good home?" she worried. "Oh, the best in the world," I said. "A Maternity Hospital!" "Kittens?" brightened the May Girl for a single instant only. "Oh, you really mean kittens? Then surely there's nothing to worry about in that direction!" "Nothing but--kittens," I conceded. "Then it must be Allan John," said the May Girl. "His feet! Of course, I can't exactly help feeling pretty responsible for Allan John. Are you sure--are you quite sure, I mean, that he hasn't been sitting round with wet feet all the evening? He isn't exactly the croupy type, of course, but--" With a sudden irrelevant gesture she unclasped her knees, and shot her feet straight out in front of her. "Whatever in the world," she cried out, "am I going to do with Allan John when it comes time to go home! Now gold-fish," she reflected, "in a real emergency,--can always be tucked away in the bath-tub. And once when I brought home a Japanese baby," she giggled in spite of herself, "they made me keep it in my own room. But----" "But I've got a worry of my own," I interrupted. "It's about your fainting. It scared me dreadfully. I've just been telephoning to Dr. Brawne about it." Across the May Girl's supple body a curious tightness settled suddenly. "You--told--Dr. Brawne that--I fainted?" she said. "You--you oughtn't to have done that!" It was only too evident that she was displeased. "But we were worried," I repeated. "We had to tell him. We didn't like to take the responsibility."