Mrs. Langley stared at the girl. The blinds were raised to-day, though not so high, and she wore the pretty gown and becoming arrangement of her hair. She looked even more attractive than she had on Saturday, for she seemed used to the change. It was almost as if she had always let in the sunshine and the rich rosy afterglow which prevailed now and had never resembled Red-Riding-Hood’s wolf in her grandmother’s cap and gown. And Anna jumped at the conclusion any young or immature person might have made that the transformation within must be as complete and thorough. “Wouldn’t you like him yourself--you and Mr. Langley?” she asked gently. “If so, I’ll give him to you as a Christmas present.” Mrs. Langley only stared the more blankly. The idea was absolutely new and strange to her mind and therefore startling. Never in all her life before had she been so surprised, so astounded. Then suddenly a sharp twinge of neuralgia, zigzagging up her face into her head converted her confusion into a sort of blind rage. As it died away, it left her with a sensation of faintness and sickness. “I don’t know what you are thinking of, Anna Miller, to--to--upset me so!” she cried querelously. “Of course we couldn’t have him here and I an invalid! It would kill me--break my heart.” As for Anna, she was quite confounded. Absolutely unprepared for the refusal of the precious gift it had cost her so much to proffer, the repetition of that hateful, meaningless phrase irritated her keenly. But for Mr. Langley’s sake, she spoke with measure. “But Mrs. Langley, I thought you were better--a heap better,” she protested. “Tell me, does your head ache at this very minute?” Mrs. Langley considered, or tried to do so. “I can’t tell,” she snapped. “I think it must, but I am so wrought up I’m sure I can’t tell. But I know this. As soon as you go, I shall find myself suffering torture, and it’s likely to keep up all night.” “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to excite you,” murmured Anna meekly. “But Joe, Junior, wouldn’t excite you, not a bit. And he wouldn’t be any trouble even to a worse invalid than you were when you were at your very sickest. He isn’t at all like other babies. Big Bell would take all the care of him--she knows how to handle ’em and she’s crazy about him already. And Mr. Langley would play with him--he’d love to, too--and then whenever you wanted to see him and hear the little love talk, why all you’d have to do would be to have him brought in--ask Bell for him.” “And like as not Bell would have an excuse all ready. I know Bell Adams better than you do, Anna Miller! She’d keep him to herself all the time and when I wanted him, she’d say he was having a nap. And he’d like Mr. Langley better than he would me and he wouldn’t come to me from him. And--O dear, O dear, why did you come here with your wild notions stirring me up so that I sha’n’t get a wink of sleep all night!”