Peter's eyes rested on the photo of the fragile little woman gazing
down at him from its stiff frame upon the chimney-piece. Thirty
years ago, in this same room, Peter had paced to and fro, his hands
behind his back, his ear alert to catch the slightest sound from
above, had said to himself the same words.

"It's odd," mused Peter--"very odd indeed."

The door opened. The stout doctor, preceded at a little distance
by his watch-chain, entered and closed the door behind him.

"A very healthy child," said the doctor, "as fine a child as any
one could wish to see. A girl."

The two old gentlemen looked at one another. Elizabeth, possibly
relieved in her mind, began to purr.

"What am I to do with it?" demanded Peter.

"A very awkward bosition for you," agreed the sympathetic doctor.

"I was a fool!" declared Peter.

"You haf no one here to look after de leedle wench when you are
away," pointed out the thoughtful doctor.

"And from what I've seen of the imp," added Peter, "it will want
some looking after."

"I tink--I tink," said the helpful doctor, "I see a way out!"