He turned red about the ears and began to wonder, fiercely, why his eggs and coffee were so slow in coming.

Then, to his consternation, the young women, plainly of the serving-class, bore down upon him with abashed smiles.

He noticed for the first time that one of them was carrying a very small child in her arms; as she came alongside, grinning sheepishly, she extended the small one toward the astounded Brock, and said in excellent old English: [Illustration: Brock] "Good morning, Mr.Medcroft." Then, with a rare inspiration, "Baby, kiss papa--come, now." She pushed the infant almost into Brock's face.

He did not observe that it was a beautiful child and that it had a look of terror in its eyes; he only knew that he was glaring wildly at the fiendish nurse, the truth slowly beating its way into his be-addled brain.

For a full minute he stared as if petrified.