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. . . : : ; .';; . - . . . v ' . . a I, i f I HE old clock in the library struck ten. "You,, that doe's more for the poor than any other Simultaneously,, Miss Eleanor Churchill woman in jhe city! You, that gives away'hospital laid down the book she.was reading, re- beds', an' college courses, an' libraries " . moved her glasses from her aristocratic "Oh, wait, Anne!" Miss Churchill put up a slen nose, and leaned back in her chair with der, protesting hand, as , she rose to be : undressed, an air of quiet expectation. . ' ." 's"No libraries, thus fair.' she . added, 'as the . other's She knew that .in exactly ' five min- deft fingersunfastened hooks and buttons. "Only utes Anne, her faithful' servant, would a few books. But really, Anne Tm, getting into a enter the room to push back, the, half- dreadful rut. You must see it. " -Three meals. a day', burned logs in the open fireplace, and a conventional drive in the afternoon, a few conven cover them with ashes, to restore to tional calls, , church I hope not too conventional its proper location arid angle any piece an occasional contribution to some worthy cause, of furniture that had been moved ever so That's my. life.' It isn't enough. How long have we . slightly during the day, and to turn off 'been living Jike this?" ; " I " - LI It 1 - the electric light. . She knew that Anne "Twenty- years, Miss Eleanor.": The old servant's would finally! approach, her at the reading-table wth tne w!as a , trifle unsympathetic She liked "living resolute and respectful mien. "If she so far forgot herself as to remain immersed in her book after the curfew stroke of fen, Anne would remain rigid, with reproach so sternly banished from her countenance as to make her voiceless censure almostloud enough to create an echo. If she, were not reading, as ia this instance, Anne would stretch her; hand toward . ; the reading-lamp as a signal that her mistress .conld ' make her exit before she turned off the light. This was the Routine in Miss Churchill's home, and .. Routine ere jwasplycxi rTo-a,ght.,M,ss Chch! 1 aseertly at he. sig-; n - Whence reathed thehreshold light went out together. In the central .: hall,, be- , , " . , ... .. mi ' i- yond the library, there jvas a dim illumination. . . , ... . . This enabled her to reach without ay disaster the , - . . , V . ' ci. chamber opposite, which was her bedroom, one paased a moment after opening "thet door, 'to. regard pensively its peaceful interior. She had, seen It so many times before, yet to-night it seemed different. Was it, perhaps' because she herself mas different? She felt that it ji-as '';r'V. .y-. - ller bed was an ' invitation to repdse with v. its upper sheet smoothly folded back and. the pillowsj in position. All electric light was adjusted above it, at an -angle to meet, the needs of ' a recumbent reader. Oa the floor stood her slippers awaiting her feet. . They almost , seemed to move"toward .beri.as she . looked at .them, so assured and-compelling was their mnte invitation. . Across the . footboard lay her; wrapper a luxurious thing 15 of ; -soft , lavender ' silk. The silver on the dressing-case seemed to' throw out ' a glimmer of welcome.. Beyond, through the open door of the bath-room, the large monpgramefl .tov? els hung in decorous readiness from the glass bars of he racks.' Everything radiated comfort and '. luxurj', as well as exquisite orderliness'. ; Yet' Miss Churchill felt dissatisfied and restless.; Even luxury and comfort spelled Routine, and in this unwonted moment of rebellion she experienced an almost sav age revolt against Routine. , Vith a deference that was part of Routine, Anne pissed her and entered the room. There was one thing more to be done the last: to draw down the green shades over the soft lace that covered the win dows. Anne did it like a priceless automaton. Miss ; Cfrurchill did not like to see these severe parallelo grams making unsympathetic panels in her dainty . be 1 roombefore her preparations for bed demanded tlleir presence. This small function, too, was Rou tine. Were she to awaken from a stupor to 'behold Anne lowering these shades, a clock could not have told her the time more accurately. ' f In this present instance, Anne shut out, by the green shades, a pretty picture of whirling snow flakes, athwart the ruddy gleam thrown on the out er "darkness from the brightly illuminated windows of her neighbor. Then Anne turned, her stolid Rou tine face1 softening. This time, in which she pre pared her beloved mistress for bed, was the hour when she was allowed to talk over trivial events of the day with the freedom of a privileged old servi tor. She bent to remove Miss Churchill's shoes, as her mistress sank into a chair, and rested her gray head comfortably against its cushioned back. This, : too, .was Routine. ' "Anne," she. asked, with an abruptness which was no Routine, "how old am I?" ? .nne's response seemed of the veryxessence of her systematic and correct being. ; f fifty-six, the eighteenth , of last August, Miss Eleanor." ' ' 3liss Churchill's gray eyes widened in surprise. Fifty-six!" she exclaimed. "Really? Why, Anne, that's old! But, do you know," she went on, mus ingly, "I don't feel as old as that. Do I look it?" ffYe do not, ma'am," declared Anne. The dis- cljmer seemed almost passionate, for her. She rose tdget the wrapper, and then stood gazing down on ti-l other woman with shrewd, affectionate eyes. j$Ye could call yourself forty, Miss Eleanor, and scbody would doubt it. To be sure," she added, with simple sincerity, "yer hair's gray. But whose -wfeuldn't be these days, with the airships and auty inEjbiles flyin" about, ready to drop on us all, to say rothin' of the nervous strain of livin', that the doc tors talk about." '$.Iiss Churchill laughed, a little self-consciously. jjl'm afraid I can't claim to be a victim of nervous strata, Anne," she said, demurely. "I'm too easy going. I do nothing! I'm letting myself stagnate. We're in the back water.. The truth is" she seemed tcroe maning me comession 10 nerseu more man lo Aane "I'm getting horribly selfish." "Selfish! You! Listen to that! Anne seemed to invoke repudiation from invisible defenders of truth. . 1 .i. r - 1 11 : .1 TT70, (Copyrighted! 111 by like this" very wellf She knew just how much she had. to, do, and she did it with purring intervals. 1 ''Twenty years! Anne!" Miss Churchill ' drew herself up so .suddenly that the staid servant was startled. : "Anne, we need young society.. If I had ourig nieces and ; nephews, I vvould invite them here forf013 vears' she added, desperately. "But T haven't .' I think" there , was a moment . of preg- nanU silence;'-then the words came with deliberate hardihood-"AnneyI think I'll adopt a baby!" Churchill's -i;took in far lor$a,rMnmvH inupt'outine. It; washardlyoo much to s x. : .Vit , ui u . v i. hope that a baby might shatter it to bits, and then . . .. , ... . k rebuild it; nearer to the heart s desire. A baby would . . . , . i, . . .r.- certainly be sweet and cuddlesome.4 .. something one . ' i it.' ' u i Anne.lef Miss' Churchill's wrapper drop from her nerveless 'hands, f The action was; equivalent to hys- ; terics. m.va,nybcidy elsex Then, without a word, she stooped! up with ttembling fingers, arid put it on hermistress. . 1 r , - ; "There, ther;e Miss Eleanor," she said;, soothingly, having foundher voice. :"It's tired ye axe an' out of sorts, or such ' idees wouldn't be comin' into yer mind. Take S nice hot bath before ye go to bed, an' ; in the morning;ye'll feel belter." ' i;' 4 MissChurchill laughed a little as she sat down on the side ' of the bed and continued her train of thought. She had a sudden exultantsense of free dom. She was dqin'g something unusual. She was breaking the Routine! - ."Of course", she mused, dallying with the" elo quent theme; "one child would be very' lonely here, " with no one" around her or him (I don't know which it will be) but 'me and a few old servants. Very lonely. ' M-m-m-m," she reflected, "L might adopt two a bdy and a girl! , They would be company for each other. .Two boys might be better no, two girls.'" : ' . -; "',;': " Even Miss Churchill's suddenly stimulated imagi nation halted this side of the picture of two small boys being company for each other in her peaceful abode.' It was all very well to destroy the Routine, but she did not wish her home destroyed. Home had not palled on her. "Two girls' she said again, posi tively. "And yet,7 her spoken thoughts ran on, re gardless of the dazed, bewildered listener before her "they might be so different; they might not agree I have it!". - V She sprang to her feet, and clutched Anne's .' shoulder in her excitement. "Anne!" she exclaimed, "I'll adopt twins!" ' "Is it a fever ye have, Miss Eleanor?" Anne's voice was breathless with fright as she laid quivering fingers on her" mistress' brow. "Get into bed now, "and lie still, that's a dear, an I'll get the doctor right off." . ' Miss Churchill crept docilely between the sheets. Then she laughed again, this time with a kind ' of abandon. She seemed to hear the Routine crumbling audibly before her insurgency. ' "Poor Anne!" she murmured. I don't wonder it startles you. After twenty such years as we've had. -'And coming so suddenly, too. But don't get the doctor yet. I won't need him till morning, and then only to advise me to what institution I ought to apply. Why, Anne, shake your mind up a bit and see what a beautiful idea it is! Only think of it! Two little toddling darlings around, to' brighten this gloomy old house, and cheer us up. We everything to them, and they just grateful, untaxing factors m - our happiness." . , . Anne groaned;. "It's cheerin' up I'll need, bad, if we've two toddlin' babies around this house," she predicted, bitterly. "An' who'll take care of them.'"' she added, after a moment's silence, as if realizing . at last that, horrible as this thing seemed, it might not be a passing nightmare. Her mistress was cer tainly awake. She could not flatter Herself that she was not, also. "A nurse!' Miss Churchill's response was prompt and enthusiastic. "Ill hire some one to take care ot them who knows all about children. We don't. But we can love them and enjoy them. One doesn't have to learn that!" "What'll we do when they have measles an' scarlet fever, an' dipthery? Both at wance?" Miss Churchill did not reply. Anne struck again. "An' pneumony, an' infant paral'sis!" she added, deliberately, following up her advantage. Miss Churchill frowned and closed her eyes. With how many infantile ailments was Anne acquainted? ' "If you're going to talk that way I think I'll go to - sleep' she saidwith hurt dignity. "Turn off the i i i i at it 7 . o 1 A J OR DA Harper & Bros.) :-' : light, close the door softly and try,, to be in a better frame of mind in the morning.: Good-night Anne." Anne went, with a heavy heart ' She '. dared not linger, and as there was nothing else to, do, she, too, went to bed. For; hours 'she turnedupon hercouch, vainly wooingsleep, her sluggish , imagination stir ring as it had pot stirred -for years.i But when; at last, sleep . came, it brought in itswake an entire orphan asylum, whose happy members frolicked, over her , couch, tramped thoughlessly, but by no means lightly, over her stomach, and jumped upon her head until she groaned aloud in anguish. - ' In her own room, Miss Churchill was dreaming, too; but her dreams were waking dreams and pleas ant ones dreams of dainty little girls, with silky golden locks, tied up with fresh, carelessly knotted pink bows, who would cuddle at her feet and mother their dolls, or. who would sit with contained rapture by her side when she went forth to drive. Two. girls they must beon that point she was now resolute. One dark, one fair; that would be nice, if that would not be asking i too much. Of excellent blood, of course,' with no hereditary , taints. Pretty, too-r-this went without saying. 'Above and beyond all twins.-' Yes, most certainly, twins. With her mind firmly' fixed on this decision, . Miss Churchill finally fell asleep. .-'. ' . ' : fr-hen'lybu hstTtneiir adenofds icut out send for me, dear.": The speaker was Mrs. Henry Wallace, a friend of Miss Churchill; and a lady whose opinions were to be considered. Mrs. Wallace had come to call, on hearing of the impending twins, and, like Miss Churchill's entire circle of friends, was" hearten- "Twitts; Yes, ing her for adopted children by much and various counsel. ... , , . . "Their adenoids?" Miss ' Churchill gasped. "But I haven't even chosen the children yet. What makes you think they will have adenoids, Sarah?" "Why, they always do," Mrs. Wallace retorted with brusque authority. "And, remember, Dr. Bos man is the best man in the city for them. The chil dren like' him; and he has H such pretty animals for them to play with-indestructible Noah's Arks, you know, and things like that.1 As soon as you've se lected the children we'll go to him. I really could not allow you to neglect that vital point. This is the day of the child, and " - - Mrs. George Prescott,. who had dropped in with Mrs. Wallace, broke in at this point. "Pardon me, Sarah," she said. "But , education is a matter to be considered even more than adenoids! What school have you chosen for the children Elea nor?" Miss Churchill gasped again. "Wtiv nnn vf " cha fili-or 'Why none, yet' she faltered. "I hadn't even thought of it. I they probably won't be more than two years old when I get them, you know. That's the age I prefer." - . "But you must enter. their names, now of course," explained. Mrs. Prescott, majestically. "Then there may be an opening for them in the school you choose by the time they are . ready to go. In all the fash ionable schools the applications are years and ylars ahead of the vacancies. My sister's child was born last week, and the very next day Helen entered her for Bromley, so they can take her in when she's ten. Just as fathers put the boy babies up for the right clubs, you know." Miss Churchill looked worried. "I didn't know all that was necessary. Of course," she added, humbly, "there is much I don't know." "Naturally." The two ladies looked convinced and sympathetic. "It's important with girls," Mrs. Prescott went on. "This is the day of the child, and of special child culture. But it's really vital in the case of boys. My nephew, Harry Blossom, was put up for Prackleton when he was born, so he got in at, eleven. When he was ready for college he entered with a dozen of his mates; and you can see the advantage. The Prackle ton boys, standing together as they did, had things all their own way, and practically ran the entire col- .. .. , 1 - m . - lege while they were there. Harry said it was so gratifying!" i , ; "If their adenoids aren't taken out they wont do much at Bromley, or anywhere else," predicted Mrs. . W allace, gloomily. -" And the adenoids come before college. No education is necessary' to have them. .1 wish you could hear the lamentations of the unfor tunate mothers who have neglected their children in that respect. ,1 went to a luncheon yesterday that lasted three hours. The only things the women talked about were adenoids and flesh reduction. Whenever I see a particularly depressed-looking woman I say ' to myself, 'There's,, a mother who has it on her soul that shehas neglected her child's adenoids.' " "I won't," promised Miss ChurcJiill. "Indeed I won't. I'm so glad you mentioned it. Do little boys have them, too?"' "Naturally. You are inexperienced, Eleanor," Mrs. Wallace continued, with a sort of Spartan sever ity, "but you mean well, and I hope you will make a success of the experiment. It's a risk, however, my dear. You must Jeel yourself that it's a risk." She rose to go, and her silk draperies seemed to rustle apprehensively. Mrs. Prescott followed 'her example. . ' :' ' - ' "Call on me or any further help I can give you.f; .the latter added, graciously. "In this day of the child; if I -may call it so ' ' '' . ' '." -.. iX.ou may,". interrupted Miss Churchill; "I see that' it .is T am wondering how it could have escaped my notice until now." ' , As they descended the stone steps leading from ! the fronfloor to the street the two women met Mrs. going to adopt ' The ladies bowed assent. with pregnant meaning. "Twins!" - Mrs. Wallace rubbed it in, ' gustily. Mrs; Burchard's face puckered with a- sort of worried; ' solemnity. ' - ? . "Then I . must see her' she said, "though I really - ti ir- That Was It. - ' i . - ..'''-..-. haven't time to-day, with a lecture, and three com-, mittee meetings. But dear Eleanor will sadly need the benefit of my experience." Care veiled her features when she greeted Miss Churchill five minutes later. - ; . ' "There's one thing I want to impress on you, Eleanor," she explained; impressively, after they had chatted a few moments about the proposed experi ment, "and I felt I must make you feel this before you chose the children. Know their family. Know them! I can't put it too strongly.- You may need, their help and their advice.' Three years ago I no ticed a certain trait in my little Frederic. It was not one I recognized as belonging to his father's family or mine. I could not handle it. I was in the dark. I consulted others in vain. What did I do? I traveled six thousand miles to see his grand mother's sister, and it was worth while. For when I .rjot there she remembered that a great-uncle of hers had had that same trait! : Do you see how it carries?" " Miss Churchill looked alarmed, as well she might. To one so fixed in her daily habit of life that she had not spent a night away from home in fifteen years, the prospect of a jaunt to seek relations several gen erations away from her twins, and thousands of mUes away from herself, was a strain. She thanked Mrs. Burchard warmly, but with certain mental reserva tions, and that lady, her duty done, beamed on her encouragingly. She felt moved to ask if the infor mation Mrs. Burchard acquired led to beneficial treat ment of Frederic's inherited trait. But her visitor went on, briskly. "This is the day of the child," she said, "and we have to approach its problems very seriously. What dancing-school have you selected for the twins?" Miss Churchill was used to surprises, but this one was almost, a slfbck. She rose to it, however, with a specious levity. "Do they have to have that, too?" she asked, laugh ing. "Poor little mites! I didn't know. You see, they will be only two years" "Not a day too young." Mrs. Burchard spoke with deep conviction. "They take to it at two, as fish take to water. They're too young to be self-conscious, so they dance as soon as they walk, and as easily. That's the new theory. They acquire instinctive grace. It's the same with languages. They must begin French as soon as they begin to speak English. I suggest Miss Benson's class for the dancing. She's wonder Artnur curcnara, aDout to mount tnem. ane stopped, i "Is it true," she asked, eagerly, "that Eleanor' is; coiner to adopt a child? . Or two children?" , ,' Shall I speak to her, and reserve Mrs. Burchard .paused invitingly, her note-boolc open .for an entry, her pencil -poised above a. virgin sheet , ' ;'.-' 'Thank you so much; you're more than kind. But ' Lthink I. won't enter them just yet. First, catch;your hare! They are not entered with me,. yet. I -don't even know what their names will be. WouldaH that be a little embarrassing? Miss Churchill's twoVname- less girls!" . ! . ' Miss Churchill spoke more smartly than she felt. A; disheartening sense of responsibility was settling tipon-her. Her friend looked disappointed. "Very , well," she acquiesced; "but, remember, it's ' a vital' question. Miss Benson's class is extremely; difficult . to enter. ' She's, under .obligations to me,just now, and I; could manage it.; But she will have for- : gotten all about her obligations in another month; ' so don't lose time with the twins:" , ' , She hurried away, and Miss Chwchifl, feeling strangely depressed, sent for Anne and took a dose of aromatic spirits of ammonia. She was siprjing , this thoughtfully , when'MUs Matilda .Vand am' was ' announced. Miss Churchill rose to greet her; with . genuine pleasure.' She liked the old' teacher, whose successful methods with ' children had made her t known on both sides of the Atlantic. She considered ; ' it a happy coincidence that Miss Vandam should , choose just this time for one of her rare calls. From - i i . , ... r . ner, sne Knew, sne woura gain camion ana lnspira-. tion. She hastened to unfold her plan and the prob lems which it entailed upon her, known and un known. Her caller listened with kindly interest m j her brown eves. "But it is simple, what yon have to do, IHe teacher said. "Do not let yonrself be confused by; those things which mean nothing. Two duties you will have toward your children, and two: alone. First,, love them. Miss Churchill drew .ft long b'reatH ifca'd sat op, "Ahl" I can do that, I fancy," she beamed, happily. ! "Second," continued the authority "know. God that they may know Hun. Miss Churchill looked dazed. "I don't quite understand," she altereH. Do you mean that I must join some chnrch?. Attend rcg-; ularly? And take the children?" A The German interrupted her with' a qu?cl repidf- "atincr gesture of the hand. "Oh, no!" she cried. "I speak of the essence, not of the form. Of the thins itself, not of the symbol. You, must be a Christian. You must know God, that these children may know Him through you. You must fill' your soul with Him. On that the development of . their, little souls will depend. That is all, but it is much," for this is the day of t the : child."- v, f . Miss Churchill wondered if anyone-alive was Igno rant of this last faet. - When she' was alone again she felt sick and dizzy.' Still she clutched at her receding dream. -.More friends came, with more theories. They filled the days and evenings; They, discussed child hygiene, education, psychology. They' all held different views on each of these subjects, it was not f until the -following week, i however, that Miss Churchill realized i;how great a ' change in her me thodical life' hen new ., responsibilities would in volve. Mrs. Vanderwater, a friend of many years' standing, and prominent in society, called to con gratulate her on her plan, of which she had promptly . heard. She began at once to expatiate on the broad ening life that -lay before Miss Churchill, looked at through the twins as a powerfuf binocular glass. "Let me see," mused Mrs. Vanderwater, when they had discussed the preliminaries. "They will be mak ing their debut about sixteen years from now. How old will you you be then Eleanor?". Eleanor wincedand colored Ughtly', . u ' "Well, I am past forty-five now," she' said. "Urn! Sixty-five!" Mrs. Vanderwater laughed un feelingly. "Not exactly the age, at which one likes to play chaperon six nights a week, is it?" she asked, lightly. "It will mean a strain; Eleanor. But we heedn't worry about that, yet. The real need is" she became serious "to build your fences now. " You- must begin to cultivate people with young chil dren. : You must go about more, entertain more. In other words you must prepare for the social future of your adopted daughters. You must plant the seed in their social garden."" -"Good heavens, Katharine!" Miss Churchill's pale face1 flushed; her eyes glittered feverishly. "Yot talk as if the arrival of two helpless little children in this house would revolutionize my entire life. Really, itfs absurd." '' -' ' . i ' Mrs. Vanderwater regarded her pityingly. "You don't : mean that you fail to realize jt vnlff- .she said, gently, but with repressed emphasis. "Do you imagine that you can fit them into place as you would a cabinet, and keep them there? They will mean a thousand changes. This is the day of the child. Its training is an infinitely complex thing. ; ; By the-way, what,.rooms do, you intend to set aside for their nursery? ' Four will do, I think a bedroom, for each, another for the nurse, and a nursery In common. Of course you will have all the rooms done over, with neutral-tinted walls and restful, effects. No' pictures will be needed; although there are wall treatments adapted to every age, and, they are helpful. And very few toys. From time to time one picture can be put on the wall, and left there . till the children have absorbed.its beauty. Then an other can be substituted for it. When you are ready to furnish, we will get Miss Sophia Carhart to study the children and make a harmonious living atmo sphere for them. Something that will match the child and yet stimulate it rightly. ' In this day of the child" - . ' Miss Churchill rose, and looked as feeble as she felt, v 5 "You will excuse me, won't you?" she asked," pleadingly, extending her hand. "But I feel quite ill. Somehow, all I've' got to do for them is accu mulating, till I begin to think that I'm doing it now, and it it exhausts me.- If you will kindly ring-for Anne" , , , The next day, Mr. Ray Norton, owner of the fa mous Foxhall Kennels, had a message, by telephone. When he responded, a faint, quavering voice came to his ear over the wire. "Is this you, Ray?" it. asked. "This is Eleanor. We're so quiet here, and lonely, that I want to brighten up the house a little. I'm thinking of guy ing a puppy." Ray Norton laughed. . "Want it for the twins, I suppose," he said, cheer fully. He, too, had heard much about those twins. "Well, I'll see what" "Oh, no, nol" The assurance was emphatic al most feverish. "I'm not going to have twins. I have changed my mind about adopting any children. You see, this is the day of the child, and it seems to me it takes too many suns to light it up sufficiently. The poor things would be orphans before I had ful filled half of my duties toward them. I'm going tq give money to orphan asylums instead. I'll tell you all about it sometime. But now we are talking about puppies. Have you got a nice, kind a nice, quret kind that will live in a basket a good deal of the time? One that is fond of home life, and gets rather attached to one person? Anne likes that sort best, and so do I. You have? You will? Oh, thank you And, Ray!" "Yes, cousin Eleanor." Mr. Norton got the words out with considerable difficulty. Then he laid his head on his desk and gurgled happily to himself. "Don't tell anybody about, the puppy" the tired voice went on. "And don't think Ira dreadfully changeable. The whole thing was a mistake. It it was made because somehow I didn't quite realize' how much this is the Day of the Child!" "One pup will be enough, Eleanor? Not twins?" Mr. Norton could not resist this. "One will be enough, Ray. I don't know so very much even about dogs. But, Ray, one thing I do want to be sure of. This this isn't especially the day of the dog, is it?" The simple pathos of the last words was too much for him. Mr. Ray Norton laid down the receiver, . ful with babies, places for them?'