"Yes," answered Mrs. Morris, "she said so. She said you'd find a note upstairs. Here's your key. I'm so sorry for you, child--O, so sorry!" Olga made no reply--she could not find words then. She went slowly up the stairs, Lizette following. Lighting the gas, she flashed a swift glance about the room. The note lay on her workbench. She snatched it up and read: "I'm going with Dick--he came back a month ago. He says he's turned over a new leaf, and he's got a job in New York. I've always wanted to live in New York. Good-bye, Olga--be good to yourself. Baby sends bye-bye to auntie. "Sonia." She handed the note to Lizette, who read it with a scowl. "Well, of all the----" she began, but a glance from Olga stopped her. "Isn't there _any_thing I can do?" she begged, her eyes full of tears. "Nothing, thank you. I'll--I'll brace up as--as soon as I can, Lizette. Good-night," Olga said gently, and Lizette went away, her honest heart aching with sympathy for her friend, and Olga was alone in the place that seemed so appallingly empty because a little child had gone out of it. But the next morning when Lizette came in Olga met her with a smile. "I'm all right," she said. "I miss my baby every minute, but, Lizette, I mean to be happy in spite of it, and I know you'll help me. Breakfast is ready--you won't leave me to eat it alone?" Her brave smile brought a lump into Lizette's throat. So they dropped back into their old pleasant companionship, and the girls came more often than before evenings, and Olga threw herself whole-heartedly into Camp Fire work, seeking opportunities for service. And the days slipped away and it was Christmas Eve again. Olga had spent the evening in the Camp Fire room helping to put up greens and trim the tree. She had a smile and a helping hand for every one, and Laura, watching her, said to herself, "She is holding her torch high--the dear child." But it had not been easy--holding the torch high. On the way home the reaction came, and Olga was silent. In the merry crowd, however, only Elizabeth and Lizette noticed her silence, for Laura had sent them all home in the car, and the swift flight through the snowy streets was exciting and exhilarating. The others called gay greetings and farewells as they rolled away, leaving Olga and Lizette on the steps in the moonlight. At Lizette's door Olga said good-night and went across to her own room. Closing the door behind her she dropped into a chair by the window, and suddenly she realised that she was very tired and O, so lonely! She longed for the pressure of a little head on her arm--for tiny fingers curling about hers--she wanted her baby. "O, why couldn't I keep her? Sonia doesn't care for her--she doesn't! And I do. I want my baby!" she cried into the night.