room. Underneath it was the now empty drawing-room, while overhead reposed the deaf Mrs. Belcher. Thus and thus alone did her shrieks fail to rouse the household. Every now and then she made an effort at self-control, but again and again the grotesque horror of the situation overcame her.
It was dawn before she pulled herself together and faced her position. With reflection came a burst of anger most unusual to the placid woman.
"Augusta," she said sternly to the baby, which had ceased weeping, as if frightened at its sister's distress. "Augusta, do you understand me?"
The baby apparently tried to nod.
"Can't you speak?"
The baby shook its head.
"It is no use, I suppose, in that case, asking how this terrible misfortune has come about?"
The baby blinked speechlessly. It was not an engaging child. To Prudence, much as she loved her sister, it seemed strange and absolutely hateful.
"You little wretch!" she cried, over-mastered by her rising anger. "Don't you see
