about. "Yes--I'd rather build 'em--than to keep one clean!"

Then were her hopes dashed by a rising wail from above. She sat quite
still awhile, hoping against hope that he would sleep again; but he
wouldn't. So she brought him down in full cry.

In her low chair by the window she held him and produced bright and
jingling objects from the tall workbasket that stood near by, sighing
again as she glanced at its accumulated mending.

Master Eddy grew calm and happy in her arms, but showed a growing
interest in the pleasing materials produced for his amusement, and a
desire for closer acquaintance. Then a penetrating odor filled the air,
and with a sudden "O dear!" she rose, put the baby on the sofa, and
started toward the kitchen.

At this moment the doorbell rang.

Mrs. Porne stopped in her tracks and looked at the door. It remained
opaque and immovable. She looked at the baby--who jiggled his spools
and crowed. Then she flew to the oven and dragged forth the bread, not
much burned after all. Then she opened the door.

A nice looking young woman stood before her, in a plain travelling suit,
holding a cheap dress-suit case in one hand and a denim "roll-bag" in
the other, who met her with a cheerful inquiring smile.

"Are you Mrs. Edgar Porne?" she asked.

"I am," answered that lady, somewhat shortly, her hand on the doorknob,