"Well, I _do_ seem to know a few things, a few _ordinary_ things,"
Dolly said, seriously, "but they are not matters to boast about. For
instance, Tobe and Annie--that's his wife--were so scared and excited
when I got there last night that they were actually harming the poor
little baby, and I set about to calm them the very first thing. I
can't begin to tell you how they went on. Think of it, they had
actually given up and were crying--both of them--and there lay the
little mite fairly gasping for breath. I made Tobe go after some wood
for the fire, and put Annie at work helping me. Then I forced them to
be still until the baby got quiet and fell asleep."

"You'd make a capital nurse." Mostyn was regarding her admiringly. "It
would be a pleasure to be sick in your hands."

Dolly ignored his compliment. She was thinking of something alien to
his mood and deeper. "Do you know," she said, after she had passed
through the gate which he had held open, "the world is all out of
joint."

"Do you think so?" he asked, as he walked beside her, suiting his step
to hers.

"Yes, for if it were right," she sighed, her brows meeting
thoughtfully, "such well-meaning persons as the Barnetts would not
have to live as they do and bring helpless children into the world."

"Things do seem rather uneven," Mostyn admitted, lamely, "but you know
really that we ought to have a law that would keep such couples from
marrying."