Of course father isn’t really unreasonable and I can always get an hour or two off in the evening when it’s necessary ; but I knew he wouldn’t stand for my being out half the night and leaving Susan or mother to see to the baby. I suppose it was just as well, because the thing did take colic—or something—about one o'clock. It didn’t kick or stiffen out, so I knew that, according to Morgan, it wasn’t crying for temper ; and it wasn’t hungry and no pins were sticking in it. It screamed till it was black in the face; I got up and heated water and put the hot water bottle on its stomach, and it howled worse than ever and drew up its poor wee thin legs. I was afraid I had burnt it but I don’t believe I did. Then I walked the floor with it although ‘Morgan on Infants’ says that should never be done. I walked miles, and oh, I was so tired and discouraged and mad—yes, I was. I could have shaken the creature if it had been big enough to shake, but it wasn’t. Father was out on a case, and mother had had a headache and Susan is squiffy because when she and Morgan differ I insist upon going by what Morgan says, so I was determined I wouldn't call her unless I had to.
“Finally, Miss Oliver came in. She rooms with Nan now, not me, all because of the baby, and I am broken-hearted about it. I miss our long talks after we went to bed, so much. It was the only time I ever had her to myself. I hated to think the baby’s yells had wakened her up, for she has so much to bear now. Mr. Grant is at Valcartier, too, and Miss Oliver feels it dreadfully, though she is splendid about it. She thinks he will never come back and her eyes just break my heart,—they are so tragic. She said it wasn’t the
