The next morning Miss Vickers looked up from her task of filling in the record cards for the previous day and smiled at Chiswick. It was unusual, for they were not the best of friends, and Chiswick hardened instantly. 

 “I'm looking sick, ain't I?” she said, defiantly. “I need air, don't I? I'll lose my complexion if I don't go out and sit a few hours on that stone horse block, won't I? Huh! Not for you! No, mam, I'll out in the afternoon for Mrs. Fielding, and I'll out in the evening for Mr. Fielding, if I have to, but I won't out in no morning for no private secretary. Not much?”  

 “I only thought,” said Miss Vickers, sweetly, “that perhaps you'd like to take a little fresh air. I don't mind tending Marjorie, if you would.”  

 “I wouldn't,” said Chiswick, shortly. 

 “Oh!” said Miss Vickers. She wrote rapidly for a few moments. “By the way,” she said, between cards. “I forgot to tell you—” she wrote in a temperature—“that the committee”—another card—“said that a new sterilizer is needed”—another record written—“and said to tell you to get one”—another card—“this morning.”  

 Chiswick threw the baby clothes she held in her hand upon the crib with more than necessary violence. She jammed her hat on her head and stuck a hat pin through it vindictively. She ran all the way to the druggist's and back, and as she entered the house she glanced at the horse block spitefully. Mrs. Fielding met her at the door. 

 “Chiswick,” she said, “I'm going to let you have another afternoon out to-day.”  

 Marjorie enjoyed Chiswick's outings. She found herself in a world where people did nice things to her, and her appetite for petting became a vice. When entertainment stopped she doubled up her fists, closed her eyes and yelled. Sometimes, if her demands went long unanswered, she held her breath until she was purple in the face. Against such a plea only Chiswick could remain obdurate. She seemed absolutely incorruptible, but she was not. Every woman has her price. 

 It was an afternoon of the meeting of the federation and Mrs. Fielding was out. Miss Vickers was out, too, and Chiswick was happy. She did not have to take an outing. 

 Marjorie sat on the sterilized floor and planned the downfall of Chiswick. She wanted to be rocked asleep, and that, like Mary's little lamb, was against the rule. Scientific babies are laid in the crib and go to 

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