The first fortnight of November rushed by with the final preparations for the sailing of the Christmas Ship filling every moment of the time of the members of the United Service Club. When at last their three packing cases of gifts were expressed to Brooklyn, they drew a sigh of relief, but when the Jason actually left the pier they felt as if all purpose had been taken out of their lives.

This feeling did not linger with them long, however, for it was not many days later that there appeared at the Morton's a Red Cross nurse, invalided home from Belgium, bringing with her the Belgian baby which they had begged their teacher, Mademoiselle Millerand, who had joined the French Red Cross, to send them.

Truth to tell, the arrival of the baby was entirely unexpected. It had come about in this way. When the club went to bid farewell to Mademoiselle Millerand on the steamer they learned that she hoped to be sent to some hospital in Belgium. Ethel Blue, who had been reading a great deal about the suffering of the women and children in Belgium, cried, "Belgium! Oh, do send us a Belgian baby!" The rest had taken up the cry and James had had the discomfiture of being kissed by an enthusiastic French woman on the pier who was delighted with their warmheartedness.

At intervals they mentioned the Belgian baby, but quite as a joke and not at all as a possibility. So when the Red Cross nurse came with her tiny charge and told them how Mademoiselle Millerand had not been able to resist taking their offer seriously since it meant help and perhaps life itself for this little warworn child, they were thoroughly surprised.

Their surprise, however, did not prevent them from rising to meet the situation. Indeed, it would have been hard for any one to resist the appeal made by the pale little creature whose hands were too weak to do more than clutch faintly at a finger and whose eyes were too weary to smile.

Mrs. Morton took her to her arms and heart at once. So did all the members of the Club and it was when they gave a cheer for "Elisabeth of Belgium," that she made her first attempt at laughter. Mademoiselle had written that her name was Elisabeth and the nurse said that she called herself that, but, so far as her new friends could find out, that was the extent of her vocabulary. "Ayleesabet," she certainly was, but the remainder of her remarks were not only few but so uncertain that they could not tell whether she was trying to speak Flemish or French or a language of her own.

The nurse was obliged to return at once to New York, and the Mortons found themselves at nightfall in the position of having an unexpected guest for whom there was no provision. Even the wardrobe of the new member of the family was almost nothing, consisting of the garments she was wearing and an extra gingham dress which a woman in the steerage of the ship had taken from her own much larger child to give to the waif.

"Ayleesabet" ate her supper daintily, like one who has been so near the borderland of starvation that he cannot understand the uses of plenty, and then she went heavily to sleep in Ethel Blue's lap before the fire in the living room.

Aunt Louise and Dorothy came over from their cottage to join the conference.

"It is really a considerable problem," said Mrs. Morton thoughtfully. "These children here say they are going to attend to her clothing, and it's right they should, for she is the Club baby; but there are other questions that are serious. Where, for instance, is she going to sleep?"

A laugh rippled over the room as she asked the question, for the sleeping accommodations of the Morton house were regarded as a joke since the family was so large and the house was so small that a guest always meant a considerable process of rearrangement.

"It isn't any laughing matter, girls. She can have Dicky's old crib, of course, but where shall we put it?"

"It's perfectly clear to me," said Mrs. Smith, responding to an appealing glance from Dorothy, "that the baby must come to us. Dorothy and I have plenty of room in the cottage, and it would be a very great happiness to both of us—the greatest happiness that has come to me since—since—"

She hesitated and Dorothy knew that she was thinking about the baby brother who had died years ago.

"It does seem the best way," replied Mrs. Morton, "but—"

"'But me no buts'," quoted Mrs. Smith, smiling. "The baby's coming is equally sudden to all of us, only I happen to be a bit better prepared for an unexpected guest, because I have more space. Then Dorothy has been just as crazy as the other girls to have a 'Belgian baby,' and she shouted just as loudly as anybody at the pier—I heard her."

"Always excepting James," Ethel Brown reminded them and they all laughed, remembering James and his Gallic salute.

"Don't take her tonight, Aunt Louise," begged Ethel Blue. "Let us have her just one night. We can put Dicky's crib into our room between Ethel Brown's bed and mine."

It was finally decided that Elisabeth should not be taken to Dorothy's until the next day, but Mrs. Morton insisted on keeping her in her own room for the night.

"She has such a slight hold on life that she ought to have an experienced eye watching her for some time to come," she said.

All the girls assisted at the baby's going to bed ceremonies, and tall Helen felt a catch in her throat no less than Ethel Blue at sight of the wasted legs and arms and hollow chest.

"I wonder, now," said Aunt Louise when they had gone down stairs again, leaving Ethel Blue and Ethel Brown to sit in the next room until their own bedtime, so that the faintest whimper might not go unheard. "I wonder where we are going to find some one competent to take care of this baby. A child in such a condition needs more than ordinary care; she needs skilled care."

"Mary might have some relatives," Dorothy began, when Helen made a rushing suggestion.

"Why not go to the School of Mothercraft? You remember, it was at Chautauqua for the summer? And it's back in New York now. I've been meaning to ask you or Grandmother or Aunt Louise to take me there some Saturday, only we've been so busy with the Ship we didn't have time for anything else. You remember it?" she asked anxiously, for she had especial reasons for wanting her mother to remember the School of Mothercraft.

"Certainly I remember it, and I believe it will give us just what we want now. It's a new sort of school," she explained to Mrs. Smith. "The students are young women who are studying the science and art of home-making. They are working out home problems in a real home in which there are real children."

"Babies and all?"

"Babies and children of other sizes. I'm going to study there when I leave college. Mother says I may," cried Helen, delighted that her favorite school was on the point of proving its usefulness in her own family.

"Can you get mother helpers from there?"

"You can, and they're scientifically trained young women. Many of them are college graduates who are taking this as graduate work."

"Then I should say that the thing for us to do," said Mrs. Smith, "was to leave the baby in Mary's care tomorrow and go in to New York and see what we can find at the School of Mothercraft. Will the students be willing to break in on their course?"

"Perhaps not, but the Director of the school is sure to know of some of her former pupils who will be available. That was a brilliant idea of yours, Helen," and Helen sank back into her chair pleased at the gentle stroke of approval that went from her mother's hand to hers.

Dorothy and Mrs. Smith were just preparing to go home when the bell rang and Dr. Hancock was announced.

"James and Margaret came home with a wonderful tale of a foundling with big eyes," he said when, he had greeted everybody, "and I thought I'd better come over and have a look at her. I should judge she'd need pretty close watching for a long time."

"She will," assented Mrs. Morton, and told him of their plan to secure a helper from the School of Mothercraft.

"The very best thing you can do," the doctor agreed heartily. "I'm on the Advisory Board of the School with several other physicians and I don't know any institution I approve of more heartily."

"Ayleesabet" was found to be sleeping deeply, but her breathing was even and her skin properly moist and the physician was satisfied.

"I'll run over every day for a week or two," he promised. "We must make the little creature believe American air is the best tonic in the world."

If the U. S. C. had had its way every member would have gone with Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Smith when they made their trip of inquiry on the next day. As it was, they decided that it was of some importance that Helen should go with them, and so they went at a later hour than they had at first intended, so that she might join them.

"There's no recitation at the last period," she explained, "and I can make up the study hour in the evening."

When the news of the baby's arrival was telephoned to Mrs. Emerson she suggested a farther change of plan.

"Let me go, too," she said; "I'll call in the car for you and Louise and we'll pick up Helen at the schoolhouse and we shall travel so fast that it will make up for the later start."

Everybody thought that a capital suggestion, and Mrs. Emerson arrived half an hour early so that she might make the acquaintance of Elisabeth. The waif was not demonstrative but she was entirely friendly.

"She seems to have forgotten how to play, if she ever knew," said Mrs. Morton, "but we hope she'll learn soon."

"She sees so many new faces it's a wonder she doesn't howl continually," said Mary to whose kindly finger Elisabeth was clinging steadfastly as she gazed seriously into Mrs. Emerson's smiling face. Then for the second time since her arrival she smiled. It was a smile that brought tears to their eyes, so faint and sad was it, but it was a smile after all, and they all stood about, happy in her approval.

"You two have your own children and Father and I are all alone now," said Grandmother, wiping her eyes. "Let us have Elisabeth. We need her—and we should love her so."

"Oh!" cried both of the younger women in tones of such disappointment that Mrs. Emerson saw at once that if she wanted a nursling she must look for another, not Elisabeth of Belgium.

"After all, perhaps it is better for her," she admitted. "Here she will have the children and will grow up among young people. Are you ready?"

When they picked up Helen she had a request to make of her grandmother.

"I telephoned about the baby to Margaret at recess, just to tell her Elisabeth was well this morning, and she was awfully interested in the idea of the helper from the School of Mothercraft. She gets out of school earlier than we do—she'd be just home. I'm sure she wouldn't keep you waiting. And the house is only a step from the main street—can't we take her?"

So Margaret was added to the party that sped on to the ferry. To everybody's surprise, when they reached the New York end of the ferry Edward Watkins signalled the chauffeur to stop.

"Roger telephoned Tom and Della about the baby," he explained, "and about your coming in today and I thought perhaps I might do something to help. I don't want to intrude—"

"We're going to the School of Mothercraft," said Mrs. Morton, "and we'd be glad to have you go with us. I don't know that we shall need to call on your professional advice but if you can spare the time we'd like to have you."

"Unfortunately, time is the commodity I'm richest in," smiled the young doctor, taking the seat beside the chauffeur.

The ride up town was a pleasure to the girls who did not often come to the city, and then seldom had an opportunity to ride in any automobile but a taxi-cab. As soon as possible they swung in to Fifth Avenue, whose brilliant shop windows and swiftly moving traffic excited them. They were quite thrilled when they drew up before a pretty house, no different in appearance from any of its neighbors, except that an unobtrusive sign notified seekers that they had found the right place.

"It's a school to learn home-making in," Helen explained to Margaret in a low tone as they followed the elders up the steps, "so it ought to be in a real house and not a schoolhouse-y place."

Margaret nodded, for they were being ushered into a cheerful reception room, simply but attractively furnished. In a minute they were being greeted by the Director who remembered meeting at Chautauqua all of them except Edward, and she recalled other members of his family and especially the Watkins bull-dog, Cupid, who was a prominent figure in Chautauqua life.

Mrs. Morton explained their errand, and also the reasons that had brought so large a number of them to the School.

"We're a deputation representing several families and a club, all of which are interested in the baby, but I should like to have the young woman you select for us understand that we are going to rely on her knowledge and skill, and that she won't be called to account by a council of war every time she washes the baby's face."

The Director smiled.

"I quite understand," she said. "I think I know just the young woman you want. She finished her course here last May, and then she went with me to Chautauqua for the summer and helped me there with the work we did in measurements and in making out food schedules and so on for children whose mothers brought them to us for our advice. Miss Merriam—Gertrude Merriam is her name—is taking just one course here now, and I think she'll be willing to give it up and glad to undertake the care of a baby that needs such special attention as your little waif."

The whole party followed the Director upstairs and looked over with interest the scientifically appointed rooms. There was a kindergarten where those of the children in the house who were old enough, together with a few from outside, were taught in the morning hours. The nursery with its spotless white beds and furniture and its simple and appropriate pictures was as good to look at as a hospital ward, "and a lot pleasanter," said Dr. Watkins. Out of it opened a wee roof garden and there a few of the children dressed in thick coats and warm hoods were playing, while a sweet-faced young woman sitting on the floor seemed quite at home with them. She tried to rise as the Director's party came out unexpectedly on her. Her foot caught in her skirt and Dr. Watkins sprang forward to give her a helping hand.

"This is Miss Merriam of whom I was speaking," said the Director, introducing her. "Will you ask Miss Morgan to come out here with the children and will you join us in the study?" she asked.

Miss Merriam assented and when her successor arrived the flock went in again to see the children's dining-room and the arrangements made for doing special cooking for such of them as needed it.

"We try not to have elaborate equipment," explained the Director. "I want my young women to be able to work with what any mother provides for her home and not to be dependent on machines and utensils that are seldom found outside of hospitals. They are learning thoroughly the scientific side. Miss Merriam, who, I hope, will go to you, is a college graduate, and in college she studied biology and food values and ventilation and sanitation and such matters. Since she has been here she has reviewed all that work under the physicians who lecture here, and she has practised first aid and made a special study of infant requirements. You couldn't have any one better trained for what you need."

Dr. Watkins gave his chair to Miss Merriam when she came to join the conference, and asked Mrs. Morton by a motion of the eyebrows if he should withdraw. When her reply was negative he sat down again. Miss Merriam blushed as she faced the group but she was entirely at her ease. Mrs. Morton explained their need.

"A Belgian baby!" she cried. "And you want me to take care of her! Why, Mrs. Morton, there's nothing in the world I should like better. The poor little dud! When shall I go to you?"

"Just as soon as you can," replied Mrs. Morton. "We've left her today in charge of my little boy's old nurse, but as soon as you come we shall move her to my sister-in-law's."

Miss Merriam turned inquiringly to Mrs. Smith, who smiled in return.

"Mrs. Smith has only her daughter and herself in her family so she has more space in her house than I have."

"But it's just round the corner from us so we can see the baby every day," cried Helen.

"I can go to Rosemont early tomorrow morning," said Miss Merriam. "Tell me, please, how to reach there."

She glanced at Mrs. Morton, but Dr. Watkins answered her.

"If you'll allow me," he said; "I have an errand in Rosemont tomorrow and I'd be very glad to show you the way."

Miss Merriam's blue eyes rested on him questioningly.

"I'm an 'in-law' of the Club," he explained. "My brother and sister, Tom and Della, are devoted members of the U. S. C. and sometimes they let me join them."

"The doctor's bull-dog is an 'in-law,' too," laughed Mrs. Smith. "Don't you remember him at Chautauqua?"

"The dog with the perfectly extraordinary face? I do indeed remember him," and the inquiring blue eyes twinkled.

"He appeared in an entertainment that the Club gave a few weeks ago for the Christmas Ship and I think he received more applause than any other performer."

"I'm not surprised," exclaimed Miss Merriam. "Thank you, Dr. Watkins, I shall be glad of your help," and Edward had a comfortable feeling that he was accepted as a friend, though he was not quite sure whether it was on his own merits or because he had a share in the ownership of a dog with an extraordinary face.

He did not care which it was, however, when he called the next morning and found Miss Merriam waiting for him. She was well tailored and her handbag was all that it should be.

"I hate messy girls with messy handbags," he thought to himself after a sweeping glance had assured him that there was nothing "messy" about this Mothercraft girl. The blue eyes were serious this morning, but they had a laugh in them, too, when he told her of the way the Belgian baby was first called for, upon a young girl's impulse, and the reward James Hancock had received for his cordial joining in the cry.

"I'm going to like them all, every one of them," Miss Merriam said in the soft voice that was at the same time clear and firm.

"I'm sure they'll like you," responded Edward.

"I hope they will. I shall try to make them. But the baby will be a delight, any way."

At Rosemont, to Dr. Watkins's disappointment, they found Grandmother Emerson and the automobile waiting at the station. Edward bowed his farewell and went off upon his errand, and Mrs. Emerson and Miss Merriam drove to Mrs. Smith's where they found Elisabeth already installed in a sunny room out of which opened another for Miss Merriam. The arrangement had been made by Dorothy's moving into a smaller chamber over the front door.

"I don't mind it a bit," she declared to her mother, "and please don't say a word about it to Miss Merriam—she might feel badly."

So Gertrude Merriam accepted her room all unconsciously, and rejoiced in its brightness. The baby was lying before the window of her own room when Gertrude entered. It moved a listless hand as she knelt beside it.

"You little darling creature!" she exclaimed and Elisabeth gave her infrequent smile as if she knew that woman's love and science were going to work together for her.