saw him again. That settled it."

The small sleeper stirred, sighed. Burns turned off the light
in a twinkling. "He's not used to electricity point blank,"
he chuckled.

Going down the steps a hand touched his arm. He looked into
Ellen Lessing's upturned face and discovered anew that it was
a face to hold the attention of a man. But there was no
coquetry in it. Instead, he saw a stirred look in eyes which
struck him suddenly as singularly like those of the child he
had just shown her, "black, with a fringe around 'em."

"Doctor Burns," she said, "will you give me the very great
pleasure of dressing the boy? I know how to do it."

"Of course, if you want to," he responded gladly. "I hoped
you ladies would look after that."

"Let me do it alone," she urged. "They have their children:
it would only be a task to them. To me - I can't tell you
what a delight it would be."

"I'll take you and Bob to the city in the morning if you'll
go."

"It will be a happy morning for Bob and me, then," she
answered, and he saw it in her face that it would be. But he
felt that it was because of the boy; not for any other reason.
It occurred to him that it might possibly be a happy morning