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was over now—the months of waiting, the pain, the fear that the baby would die, the two weeks at the sanitarium. It was all over, or practically so. This was Dot's last night away from home.

She had spent most of the day in the nursery receiving instructions from Miss Parsons on how to bathe, diaper, and dress the infant. It was all very simple. You just went ahead and did it, praying to God all the while that the baby wouldn't slip, drop, or cry.

Now she sat in a chair at the window, with the baby in her arms, looking at the house across the yard where tonight there was another party wrell under way.

It was very pleasant sitting there with Edna and Eddie beside her and young Edward lustily partaking of his supper. It was ten o'clock. Soon they must all desert her for the night, but they would leave a cozy contentment behind them. Dot's eyes wandered over Edna's familiar, homely face and on to Eddie. Lastly they rested on the baby. Her heart swelled till it seemed that it must leave her body and soar above the clouds. The two loves of her life, and her friend. Her eyes wandered to the bed where Mrs. Vernon had lain. She regretted the loss of the strange, red-haired woman. She wished that she were here now, even if she were only reading and scowling into her book in the manner that Dot had come to know. Dot had asked for her address, but she had laughed and said, "Dottie, you're a darling, but you're not one to keep a secret. I'll take your address instead." But she had gone without asking for it, and Dot had not pressed it upon her.