Rilla of Ingleside

s!" The doctor shook his head. "

" said Susan superbly. "Wait you till the Germans come against the Briti

thin grey line" was unbreakable, even by the victorious rush of Germany's ready millions. At any rate, when the terrible day ca

ed Nan, taking a brief refu

"for that cat-creature turned into Mr. Hyde this morning w

" muttered the doctor, from a London dispatch. "Can

before the war is ended," sa

moment been temporarily submerg

Never forget that. And the Russians are on their way, too, though Russi

ter gloomily. "Paris is the heart of France-and the road t

f tears in Rainbow Valley and an outburst in her diary, remembered that she had elected to be brave and heroic. And, she thought, it really was heroic to volunteer to drive about the Glen and Four Winds one day, collecting promised Red Cross supplies with Abner Crawford's old grey horse. One of the Ingleside horses was lame and the doctor needed the other, so there was not

and it was not likely Mrs. Anderson had anything to give. On the other hand, her husband, who was an Englishman by birth and who had been working in Kingsport when the war broke out, had promptly sailed for England to enlist there, without, it may be said,

ore as if rather ashamed of itself and anxious to hide. Rilla tied her grey nag to the rickety fence and w

was there any doubt that the big, frowzy, red-headed, red-faced, over-fat woman sitting near the door-way, smoking a pipe quite comfortably, was very much alive. She rock

s. Conover; she lived down at the fishing village; she was a

. Perhaps this woman, repulsive as she was, needed help-though she

oving her pipe and staring at Ril

dead?" asked Rilla timidly,

half an hour ago. I've sent Jen Conover to 'phone for the undertaker and get

ich was not cluttered with som

it-very

ever left. It's my belief she was took for death when she heard the news. That young un there was born a

I can do to-to help

n't. That young un there never lets up squalling, day

ck with kids" either. She saw an ugly midget with a red, distorted little face, rolled up in a piece of dingy old flannel. She had never seen an uglier ba

o become of the

trouble myself with it, I can tell yez. I brung up a boy that my sister left and he skinned out as soon as he got to be some good and won't give me a mite o' help in my old age, ungrateful whelp as

n be taken to the asylum?" persisted Ri

bottle she produced from a shelf near her. "It's my opinion the kid won't live long. It's sickly. Min neve

blanket down a

dressed!" she exclaim

Min. 'Sides, as I told yez, I don't know nithing about kids. Old Mrs. Billy Crawford, she was here when it was born and she washed it an

shadow alone, fretting about her baby, with no one near but this abominable old woman, hurt her terribly. If she had only come a little sooner! Yet what could she have done-what could she do now? She didn't know, but she must d

I must be home by supper-time because he wanted

, desperate, impu

by home with me,"

s. Conover amiably. "I hain't an

ve the horse and I'd be afraid I'd drop it. Is t

yez. Min was pore and as shiftless as Jim. Ef ye opens that draw

ut this did not solve the pressing problem of the baby's transportation. Rilla looked helplessly rou

s to-to lay him

n't any good. He brung that old tureen out from England with him-said it'd always been in the family. Him and Min never used it-never had enough soup to put in it-but

ted it-rolled it in a blanket, trembling with nervousness lest

of it smothering?"

if it do," sa

ce a little. The mite had stopped crying and was blinkin

on it," admonished Mrs. Conove

tered little quilt ar

to me after I get in

Mrs. Conover, gett

Anderson house a self-confessed hater of babies, drov

shed it would give an occasional squeak to prove that it was alive. Suppose it were smothered! Rilla dared not unwrap it to see, lest the wind, which was no

le under Susan's eyes. Susan looked into the tureen and for once in

is this?" asked the

had to bring it, father," she conc

to do with it?" aske

tly expected this

-can't we-until something can be a

r two while the baby stared at the white walls of the so

e doctor con

are leaving for Redmond next week and neither your mother nor Susan is able to assume so much extr

into being ungrammatical.

st go back to Meg Conover. Its lease of life will be short if it does for it is evident that it is a delicate child and requires

he knew quite well that the small inhabitant of the big soup tureen would remain at

she could take care of it. But-that poor little, frail, dead

e done for a baby?"

neither too hot nor too cold, and feed it every two hours. If it has colic, y

began to

ow," said Rilla desperately. "Tell me wh

lla lifted the baby out of the soup tureen and fed it. She brought down the old basket of her own infancy from the attic

hings over was that she went

n't let that poor little thing go back to Mr

put his foot down and said a thing must be, that thing was. Rilla set her teeth and went ahead. In the name of goodness, how many wrinkles and kinks did a baby have? Why, there wasn't enough of it to take hold of. Oh,

much, Susan, do you supp

ashed. You are real knacky for a beginner. Keep your

e. When the baby was dried and dressed and temporaril

do with it to

dful enough; a baby by

feed it once or twice in the night, so you would better take the oil heater u

san, if

to this absurd predicament? She did not care if the Germans were near Paris-she did not care if they were in Paris-if only the baby wouldn't cry or choke or smother or have convulsions. Babies did have convulsions, didn't they? Oh, why had she forgotten to ask Susan what she must do if the baby had convulsions? She reflected rather bitterly that father was very considerate of mother's and Susan's health, but

rned home two nights later and asked Susan where R

s. Dr. dear, puttin