She ran to the bathroom and put her hand in the running stream from the faucet. Tepid, only tepid. Would it never get warm? If God ever wanted anything more from her--in the way of belief or devotion--let Him make this water hot, now, on the instant. Her wet hand and her dry one moved rapidly together at her baby's clothes, unpinning the safety pins. Even in her haste she put them in her mouth mechanically, one after another. Once more she plunged her hand into the water. Warmer now, yes, almost warm enough. She put the round rubber stopper in the escape. She lowered the stiff and naked little child into the tub, one hand behind his neck, the other held to shelter his face from the spray of the hot water which was pouring from the open tap. Al stood at the door in bare feet, his trousers slipped on over his nightshirt. "D'you want the doctor to come right away?" he asked. "Do you mean to say you haven't gone yet?" she said piteously without turning her head as she knelt by the bathtub, "of course, right away--now, this instant." The young fellow departed on the run for the janitor's telephone in the basement. The water had become quite hot, but still the child did not relax. Georgia tried to undo one tiny fist with her forefinger, but she felt with agony of heart that it would not unclench easily. She sensed a touch on her shoulder, then saw another older hand put in the water behind the child's head. "No, mother, you shan't," she said, "it is my baby, leave him to me." "Shall I ask Father Hervey to come?" said Mrs. Talbot. Georgia was too intent to answer. Mrs. Talbot walked slowly down stairs, stiff with rheumatism. She met Al coming up, four steps at a time. "How is he?" he shouted as he passed. She turned to explain, but he vanished out of sight around the turn at the landing, not waiting for an answer. When she got Father Hervey on the telephone he asked if she was speaking of the young child he had baptized a month or so back. "Three weeks come Tuesday," she said. "Ah, then he has been baptized. That, at least, is well." "But Father, if you could come, and pray, maybe it would save his life here, too." He hesitated but a moment. Truly there was no priestly obligation to visit sick infants who had already been baptized, whenever their grandparents became excited. To baptize dying babies or to administer the last rites to those who had reached the age of reason was his duty. This was not. But if he did it, it would be an act of human kindness. "I will come," he said over the wire, "at once." XXIX THE DOCTOR TALKS When the doctor arrived the convulsion had passed. Little Al was lying in his crib, asleep, breathing easily, the snarls in his nerves unravelled. Georgia explained what had happened. "You did just the right thing," said the physician. "Doctor," she asked slowly, "will he ever be well?" "What do you mean by well?"