In the morning she watched her sister with intense anxiety, but she dared not urge her further, and Sonia seemed possessed by some imp of perversity to do everything in her power to prolong Olga's suspense. She stayed in bed till the last minute, dawdled over her breakfast, insisted upon giving the baby her bath--a task which she usually left to her sister--and when at last she was ready to go out it was nearly noon. "You'll have to give me money to get something to eat down town, Olga," she said then. "It will be noon by the time I get to that store, and I can't talk business on an empty stomach. I'd be sure to make a bad impression if I did. Half a dollar will do." With a sigh Olga handed her the money. Sonia took it with a mocking little laugh, and was gone at last. "O, I wonder--I _wonder_ if she will really try to get the place," Olga said to herself as the door closed. She set to work then, but her restless anxiety affected her nerves and the work did not go well. The baby too fretted and required more attention than usual. As the day wore on Olga began to worry about the baby--her small face was so pinched, and the blue shadows under her eyes were more noticeable than usual; so it was with an exclamation of relief that, opening the door in response to a knock in the late afternoon, she saw the nurse who had taken care of her in the summer. "O, I'm so glad it's you, Miss Kennan!" she cried. "Do come in and tell me what ails this baby." "A _baby_! Whose is it?" the nurse asked; but as she looked at the child, she forgot her question. "The poor little soul!" she exclaimed. Then with a quick sharp glance at the girl, "What have you been giving it?" "Giving it?" Olga echoed. "Why, nothing except her food." "What kind of food--milk?" "Milk, and this." Olga brought a bottle of the malted food. "That's all right. Let me see some of the milk," the nurse ordered. She looked at the milk, smelt it, tasted it. "That seems all right too," she declared. "And you've put nothing--no medicine of any sort--in her food?" "Why, of course not." "Do you prepare her food always?" "Not always. Her mother--my sister--fixes it some times." "Ah!" said the nurse. "What do you mean, Miss Kennan? What is the matter with the baby?" "She's been doped," answered the nurse shortly. "Soothing syrup or something probably, to keep her quiet. Sleeps a lot, doesn't she?" "Yes. She never seems really awake. O Miss Kennan, I never knew----" "I see. Well, you'll have to know now. Find out what has been given her, and fix all her food after this, yourself. Can you?" "I don't know. I'll try to." "If you don't, she won't need food much longer," said the nurse. "O, how can any one be so wicked!" cried Olga. "It isn't wickedness--it's ignorance mostly--laziness sometimes, when a mother doesn't want to be troubled with the care of a baby. Probably this one had an overdose this morning."