Rose-Marie Gilpet was thoroughly sincere in her adherence to
Christian Science principles; whether she understood or correctly
expounded them the learned in such matters may best decide. In
the present case she was undoubtedly confronted with a great
opportunity, and as she started forth on her vague search she
strenuously summoned to her aid every scrap of faith that she
possessed. She passed out into the bare and open high road,
followed by Mrs. Momeby's warning, "It's no use going there, we've
searched there a dozen times." But Rose-Marie's ears were already
deaf to all things save self-congratulation; for sitting in the
middle of the highway, playing contentedly with the dust and some
faded buttercups, was a white-pinafored baby with a mop of tow-
coloured hair tied over one temple with a pale-blue ribbon.
Taking first the usual feminine precaution of looking to see that
no motor-car was on the distant horizon, Rose-Marie dashed at the
child and bore it, despite its vigorous opposition, in through the
portals of Elsinore. The child's furious screams had already
announced the fact of its discovery, and the almost hysterical
parents raced down the lawn to meet their restored offspring. The
aesthetic value of the scene was marred in some degree by Rose-
Marie's difficulty in holding the struggling infant, which was
borne wrong-end foremost towards the agitated bosom of its family.
"Our own little Erik come back to us," cried the Momebys in
unison; as the child had rammed its fists tightly into its eye-
sockets and nothing could be seen of its face but a widely gaping
mouth, the recognition was in itself almost an act of faith.

"Is he glad to get back to Daddy and Mummy again?" crooned Mrs.
Momeby; the preference which the child was showing for its dust
and buttercup distractions was so marked that the question struck