heart, Warren walked to the bed and picked up the infant. Its cries
had dwindled to a feeble whining, and it shivered. Warren hastily
unfastened his blouse, and pressed the little being to the warmth of
his body. He could feel it press against him, or so it seemed to him,
as he stood there in that chamber of death. His course, however,
seemed clear. The living child in his arms must be cared for, and at
once. He could only think of Evelyn. The hospitals were either
shattered or filled with too many wounded soldiers. There was no room
in any place of that sort now for a little baby . Life was cheap in
Warsaw that day. He would take it to Evelyn and she would take care of
it somehow. His own little Elinor he dared not think of.

It was with an almost breaking heart that he and the other boys rapidly
retraced their steps and finally gained the warehouse. As he went up
the long stairs, Professor Morris left his corner, and stood ready to
greet them. He was smiling.

"Well, well, where is Elinor?" be asked testily.

"We did not find her," answered Warren curtly. He was so tired that he
staggered as be walked. He gained the top of the steps and, crossing
unsteadily to Evelyn, laid the baby in her arms. Its little pinched
face, and bloodstained dress prepared her for Warren's story.

"It is nearly starved," she said. "What shall we give it?"

"I know," said Ivan. "Babies all drink milk, don't they? There is a
court down below, and when we went out I saw a couple of goats in it."

It was true, and the poor creatures were glad enough to be milked. The