when　they　could　do　nothing　but　cry　and　wave
  their　absurd　little　fists；　and　wobble　their　heads
  in　so　fearsome　a　manner；　as　if　they　simply　did
  not　know　the　meaning　of　the　word　backbone
  and；　for　that　matter；　of　course　they　didn't
  why；　he　could　not　be　expected　to　be　anything
  but　relieved　when　he　had　his　den　to　himself　again；
  with　a　reasonable　chance　of　finding　his　manuscript
  as　he　had　left　it；　and　not　cut　up　into　a　ridiculous
  string　of　paper　dolls　holding　hands；　as　he　had
  once　found　it；　after　a　visit　from　a　woman　with　a
  small　girl。
  Since　Marie　had　been　at　the　helm；　however；
  he　had　not　been　troubled　in　such　a　way。　　He　had；
  indeed；　known　almost　his　old　customary　peace
  and　freedom　from　interruption；　with　only　an
  occasional　flitting　across　his　path　of　the　strange
  women　and　babiesthough　he　had　realized；　of
  course；　that　they　were　in　the　house；　especially　in
  the　nursery。　　For　that　reason；　therefore；　he　always
  avoided　the　nursery　when　possible。　　But　to…day
  he　wanted　his　wife；　and　his　wife　was　not　to　be
  found　anywhere　else　in　the　house。　　So；　reluctantly；
  he　turned　his　steps　toward　the　nursery；　and；　with
  a　frown；　knocked　and　pushed　open　the　door。
  ‘‘Is　Mrs。　Henshaw　here？''　he　demanded；　not
  over　gently。
  Absolute　silence　greeted　his　question。　　The　man
  saw　then　that　there　was　no　one　in　the　room　save
  a　baby　sitting　on　a　mat　in　the　middle　of　the　floor；
  barricaded　on　all　sides　with　pillows。
  With　a　deeper　frown　the　man　turned　to　go；　when
  a　gleeful　‘‘Ahgoo！''　halted　his　steps　midway。
  He　wheeled　sharply。
  ‘‘Ereh？''　he　queried；　uncertainly　eyeing
  his　small　son　on　the　floor。
  ‘‘Ahgoo！''　observed　the　infant　（who　had
  been　very　lonesome）；　with　greater　emphasis；　and
  this　time　he　sent　into　his　father's　eyes　the　most
  bewitching　of　smiles。
  ‘‘Well；　by　George！''　murmured　the　man；
  weakly；　a　dawning　amazement　driving　the　frown
  from　his　face。
  ‘‘Spggghoowah！''　gurgled　the　boy；　holding
  out　two　tiny　fists。
  A　slow　smile　came　to　the　man's　face。
  ‘‘Well；　I'llbedarned；''　he　muttered　half…
  shamefacedly；　wholly　delightedly。　　‘‘If　the　rascal
  doesn't　act　as　if　heknew　me！''
  ‘‘Ahgoospggghh！''　grinned　the　infant；
  toothlessly；　but　entrancingly。
  With　almost　a　stealthy　touch　Cyril　closed　the
  door　back　of　him；　and　advanced　a　little　dubiously
  toward　his　son。　　His　countenance　carried　a　mixture
  of　guilt；　curiosity；　and　dogged　determination
  so　ludicrous　that　it　was　a　pity　none　but　baby　eyes
  could　see　it。　　As　if　to　meet　more　nearly　on　a　level
  this　baffling　new　acquaintance；　Cyril　got　to　his
  kneessomewhat　stiffly；　it　must　be　confessed
  and　faced　his　son。
  ‘‘Gooeeeoooyah！''　crowed　the　baby
  now；　thrashing　legs　and　arms　about　in　a　transport
  of　joy　at　the　acquisition　of　this　new　playmate。
  ‘‘Well；　well；　young　man；　youyou　don't　say
  so！''　stammered　the　growingly…proud　father；
  thrusting　a　plainly　timid　and　unaccustomed　finger
  toward　his　offspring。　　‘‘So　you　do　know　me；
  eh？　　Well；　who　am　I？''
  ‘‘Dada！''　gurgled　the　boy；　triumphantly
  clutching　the　outstretched　finger；　and　holding　on
  with　a　tenacity　that　brought　a　gleeful　chuckle　to
  the　lips　of　the　man。
  ‘‘Jove！　but　aren't　you　the　strong　little　beggar；
  though！　　Needn't　tell　me　you　don't　know　a　good
  thing　when　you　see　it！　　So　I'm　‘da…da；'　am　I？''
  he　went　on；　unhesitatingly　accepting　as　the　pure
  gold　of　knowledge　the　shameless　imitation　vocabulary
  his　son　was　foisting　upon　him。　　‘‘Well；　I
  expect　I　am；　and''
  ‘‘Oh；　Cyril！''　　The　door　had　opened；　and
  Marie　was　in　the　room。　　If　she　gave　a　start　of
  surprise　at　her　husband's　unaccustomed　attitude；
  she　quickly　controlled　herself。　　‘‘Julia　said　you
  wanted　me。　　I　must　have　been　going　down　the
  back　stairs　when　you　came　up　the　front；　and''
  ‘‘Please；　Mrs。　Henshaw；　is　it　Dot　you　have　in
  here；　or　Dimple？''　asked　a　new　voice；　as　the　second
  nurse　entered　by　another　door。
  Before　Mrs。　Henshaw　could　answer；　Cyril；　who
  had　got　to　his　feet；　turned　sharply。
  ‘‘Is　it_who_？''　he　demanded。
  ‘‘Oh！　　Oh；　Mr。　Henshaw；''　stammered　the　girl。
  ‘‘I　beg　your　pardon。　　I　didn't　know　you　were　here。
  It　was　only　that　I　wanted　to　know　which　baby　it
  was。　　We　thought　we　had　Dot　with　us；　until''
  ‘‘Dot！　　Dimple！''　exploded　the　man。　　‘‘Do
  you　mean　to　say　you　have　given　my　_sons_　the
  ridiculous　names　of　‘_Dot_'　and　‘_Dimple_'？''
  ‘‘Why；　noyeswell；　that　iswe　had　to
  call　them　something；''　faltered　the　nurse；　as　with
  a　despairing　glance　at　her　mistress；　she　plunged
  through　the　doorway。
  Cyril　turned　to　his　wife。
  ‘‘Marie；　what　is　the　meaning　of　this？''　he　demanded。
  ‘‘Why；　Cyril；　dear；　don'tdon't　get　so
  wrought　up；''　she　begged。　　It's　only　as　Mary　said；
  we　_had_　to　call　them　something；　and''
  ‘‘Wrought　up；　indeed！''　interrupted　Cyril；
  savagely。　　‘‘Who　wouldn't　be？　　‘Dot'　and　‘Dimple'！
  Great　Scott！　　One　would　think　those　boys
  were　a　couple　of　kittens　or　puppies；　that　they
  didn't　know　anythingdidn't　have　any　brains！
  But　they　haveif　the　other　is　anything　like　this
  one；　at　least；''　he　declared；　pointing　to　his　son　on
  the　floor；　who；　at　this　opportune　moment　joined
  in　the　conversation　to　the　extent　of　an　appropriate
  ‘‘Ahgoodada！''
  ‘‘There；　hear　that；　will　you？''　triumphed　the
  father。　　‘‘What　did　I　tell　you？　　That's　the　way
  he's　been　going　on　ever　since　I　came　into　the
  room；　The　little　rascal　knows　meso　soon！''
  Marie　clapped　her　fingers　to　her　lips　and　turned
  her　back　suddenly；　with　a　spasmodic　little　cough；
  but　her　husband；　if　he　noticed　the　interruption；
  paid　no　heed。
  ‘‘Dot　and　Dimple；　indeed！''　he　went　on
  wrathfully。　　‘‘That　settles　it。　　We'll　name　those　boys
  to…day；　Marie；　_to…day！_　　Not　once　again　will　I　let
  the　sun　go　down　on　a　Dot　and　a　Dimple　under
  my　roof。''
  Marie　turned　with　a　quick　little　cry　of　happiness。
  ‘‘Oh；　Cyril；　I'm　so　glad！　　I've　so　wanted　to
  have　them　named；　you　know！　　And　shall　we　call
  them　Franz　and　Felix；　as　we'd　talked？''
  ‘‘Franz；　Felix；　John；　James；　Paul；　Charles
  anything；　so　it's　sane　and　sensible！　　I'd　even
  adopt　Calderwell's　absurd　Bildad　ander
  Tomdad；　or　whatever　it　was；　rather　than　have
  those　poor　little　chaps　insulted　a　day　longer　with
  a　‘Dot'　and　a　‘Dimple。'　　Great　Scott！''　　And；
  entirely　forgetting　what　he　had　come　to　the
  nursery　for；　Cyril　strode　from　the　room。
  ‘‘Ahgoospggggh！''　commented　baby
  from　the　middle　of　the　floor。
  It　was　on　a　very　windy　March　day　that　Bertram
  Henshaw's　son；　Bertram；　Jr。；　arrived　at
  the　Strata。　　Billy　went　so　far　into　the　Valley　of
  the　Shadow　of　Death　for　her　baby　that　it　was
  some　days　before　she　realized　in　all　its　importance
  the　presence　of　the　new　member　of　her
  family。　　Even　when　the　days　had　become　weeks；
  and　Bertram；　Jr。；　was　a　month　and　a　half　old；
  the　extreme　lassitude　and　weariness　of　his　young
  mother　was　a　source　of　ever…growing　anxiety　to
  her　family　and　friends。　　Billy　was　so　unlike　herself；
  they　all　said。
  ‘‘If　something　could　only　rouse　her；''
  suggested　the　Henshaw's　old　family　physician　one
  day。　　‘‘A　certain　sort　of　mental　shockif　not
  too　severewould　do　the　deed；　I　think；　and
  with　no　injuryonly　benefit。　　Her　physical
  condition　is　in　just　the　state　that　needs　a　stimulus
  to　stir　it　into　new　life　and　vigor。''
  As　it　happened；　this　was　said　on　a　certain
  Monday。　　Two　days　later　Bertram's　sister　Kate；　on
  her　way　with　her　husband　to　Mr。　Hartwell's　old
  home　in　Vermont；　stopped　over　in　Boston　for　a
  two　days'　visit。　　She　made　her　headquarters　at
  Cyril's　home；　but　very　naturally　she　went；　without
  much　delay；　to　pay　her　respects　to　Bertram；　Jr。
  ‘‘Mr。　Hartwell's　brother　isn't　well；''　she
  explained　to　Billy；　after　the　greetings　were　over。
  ‘‘You　know　he's　the　only　one　left　there；　since
  Mother　and　Father　Hartwell　came　West。　　We
  shall　go　right　on　up　to　Vermont　in　a　couple　of
  days；　but　we　just　had　to　stay　over　long　enough
  to　see　the　baby；　and　we　hadn't　ever　seen　the
  twins；　either；　you　know。　　By　the　way；　how　perfectly
  ridiculous　Cyril　is　over　those　boys！''
  ‘‘Is　he？''　smiled　Billy；　faintly。
  ‘‘Yes。　　One　would　think　there　were　never　any
  babies　born　before；　to　hear　him　talk。　　He　thinks
  they're　the　most　wonderful　things　in　the　world
  and　they　are　cunning　little　fellows；　I'll　admit。
  But　Cyril　thinks　they　_know_　so　much；''　went　on
  Kate；　laughingly。　　‘‘He's　always　bragging　of
  something　one　or　the　other　of　them　has　done。
  Think　of　it_Cyril！_　　Marie　says　it　all　started
  from　the　time　last　January　when　he　discovered
  the　nurses　had　been　calling　them　Dot　and　Dimple。''
  ‘‘Yes；　I　know；''　smiled　Billy　again；　faintly；
  lifting　a　thin；　white；　very　un…Billy…like　hand　to
  her　head。
  Kate　frowned；　and　regarded　her　sister…in…law
  thoughtfully。
  ‘‘Mercy！　how　you　look；　Billy！''　she　exclaimed；
  with　cheerful　tactlessness。　　‘‘They　said　you　did；
  but；　I　declare；　you　look　worse　than　I　thought。''
  Bill