When little souls are born, just before they come to us from the wonderful place of souls, they have to do with a lottery. To a thousand little blind struggling souls, there are half-a-dozen great good gifts. Nine hundred and ninety-four draw blanks, but the band of six come down to us blessed, rejoicing. Dot had been of the six. She had drawn a voice. Generally Larrie rejoiced because of it. Not this morning, however. He had been brooding lately over Dot's deficiencies, and he almost wished she had been of the nine hundred and ninety-four. For one thing, he could have walked all the four sides of the verandah if she had been. The thought rankled. 'Dot,' he called in 'a voice.' Only little bursts of melody answered him. She was singing a rippling song of Schubert's; it was in keeping with the warm, soft air outside, the twittering of birds, the faint motion of the gum leaves. 'Dot!' he shouted. She put a curly little head between the window curtains. 'Well, Larrakin?' she said. 'Come and mind the baby,' he said shortly, 'I want to smoke.' 'But baby doesn't mind smoke at all--do you, small sweet?' she said, going over to the hammock. 'Oh Larrie, look how uncomfortable he is, you're a nice one to look after him; and where's his comforter? he'll have no thumb left presently.' 'I threw it away,' Larrie answered, 'all that indiarubber can't be good for him, I don't intend him to have another.' 'Stupid!' said Dot. She kissed the baby, tickled it, tossed it, then laid it down again. 'What did you call me for,' she said. 'I was just enjoying myself.' Her eyes still had the look of being away in the spheres. 'He's all right there and it's your turn to mind him, Larrie. I walked him about for an hour in the night.' She moved to go in again. 'Stop here when I tell you, and mind him,' he said in an unpardonable voice. Dot gave him a surprised look. 'You forget yourself, Larrie,' she said quietly. She went in and her fingers wandered into the quiet, calm music of one of Mendelssohn's gondola songs. But she took it in rather hurried time. Larrie disturbed her when he had this mood on. He came behind her and lifted her hands off the keyboard. 'Go and mind the child this minute.' The flame in his eyes showed itself instantly in hers. 'How dare you speak to me like that!' she said. 'Go and mind the child,' said Larrie. Dot crashed a passionate chord on the piano, she lifted her right hand for a brilliant run. But Larrie picked her up in his arms and put her outside on the verandah near the hammock. Then he went in and closed the drawing-room door behind him. By the time she had flown round through the dining-room he was locking the piano. 'How _dare_ you!' Dot said in trembling fury. 'My piano! give me that key instantly.' 'Go and mind your child,' he said. He was stooping a little, for the key stuck, since it was never used; his head was almost on a level with the lid.