"This is my shoe," said Diego, frankly exhibiting a worn specimen,
"and Baby has shoes, too, blue ones. And Baby cried in the night
when the mirror fell down, didn't she, mother? And she broke her
bowl, and bited on the pieces, and blood came down on her bib--"

"All our tragedies!" laughed Anne.

"Didn't that hurt her mouth?" said the caller, interestedly, lifting
Diego into the curve of his arm.

Diego rested his golden mop comfortably against the big shoulder.

"It hurt her teef," he said dreamily, and subsided.

As if it were quite natural that the child should be there, the
gentleman eyed Anne over the little head.

"I've not told you my name, madam," said he. "I am Charles Rideout.
Not that that conveys anything to you, I suppose--?"

"But it does, as it happens!" Anne said, surprised and pleased.
"Jim--my husband, is with the Rogers-Wiley Company, and I think they
do a good deal of cement work for Rideout & Company."

"Surely," assented the man, "and your husband's name is--?"

"Warriner,--James Warriner," Anne supplied.

"Ah--? I don't place him," Mr. Rideout said thoughtfully. "There
are so many. Well, Mrs. Warriner," he turned his smiling, bright