"That's not likely, mother," returned Anne. "As the child would look thin and sickly if a mother found it hard to support it. I rather think it is a babe that belongs to some distracted mother in the neighborhood.

He has evidently been put to bed for the night. Possibly a vindictive nurse-girl took him from his home to make his parents seek for him and then left him at the most convenient door."

"Anne's reason sounds the most plausible, and we'd better 'phone the police-stations at once. Billy's parents may even now be wild with despair, for we do not know how long he was in the vestibule. All we know is, he was not there when we came in, about eight o'clock," said Mrs. Evans.

So she telephoned the police-stations, near by, and also asked the morning papers to run a short notice under a suitable caption. Before she had finished this work, however, Master Billy began his complaints again, and now he was beginning to look as impatient as such a good-natured baby could.

"Maybe he's hungry?" suddenly suggested Mrs. Stewart.

"That's just what ails him-but we haven't any bottle!" exclaimed Mrs.

Evans.

"Perhaps he drinks from a cup-he is old enough to have been weaned, you know," ventured Mrs. Latimer.

A cup of warmed milk was brought in short order, and Mrs. Stewart held it out to Anne, as she was still holding the baby. The moment Billy saw the cup, he almost leaped from Anne's arms, and immediately began gurgling for very glee.

Everyone laughed at his antics, and Anne was about to hold the cup to his lips, when two fat hands clutched at it in a hungry endeavor to reach the contents. Of course, part of the milk spilled on his nightie but the remainder he drank greedily.

"He's well-trained-whoever he is. I should say that he has had every attention in the past, to have him act like this at his age," said Mrs.

Latimer.

"But we don't know how old he is. He may be months older than we thought for," argued Mrs. Evans.

"Well, he isn't more than eighteen months at the most," declared Mrs.

Stewart.

Polly and Eleanor stood silently by listening to these experienced mothers, but Anne smiled indulgently at them, and kept her opinions to herself.

Dr. Evans and Mr. Latimer stopped for their wives, and when they had heard and been shown the fine boy, they gave their masculine opinions.

"A baby who was boarded out, and the parents hadn't paid up recently. So the woman left him on the first door-step to get rid of him," was the doctor's verdict.

"There spoke the doctor who knows of such cases," said Anne.

"That isn't it, however," remarked Mr. Latimer. "I am of the opinion that this child is of wealthy parentage. He likely is a stumbling-block for some heirs, who wish him safely out of the way so they may claim the estate."

Anne laughed again. "There speaks the attorney. But you should have had the jealous heirs remove this monogramed locket before they tried to get rid of all evidence of a barrier to their inheritance."

"Reckon we'd better stop romancing and put Billy to bed," said Polly, in a matter-of-fact voice.

Her common sense caused a general laugh, and Dr. Evans added: "Well, ladies! Come on, if we are to get home to-night."

With a last look at the sleepy cherub, and a good-night to the friends living in the Studio, the four New Yorkers went out.

"Where shall he sleep to-night?" asked Anne.

"Let me have him?" cried Polly.

"Oh-I found him first-let me have him," begged Eleanor.

"No, girls; babies should sleep absolutely alone. I will get a drawer from the high-boy and rig him up a nice little bed therein. To-morrow night he will be in his own home, most likely," explained Mrs. Stewart.

So saying, she hurried upstairs, and in a short time returned, carrying the drawer. Anne and the two girls helped cushion it softly, and then they placed Billy in it.

He was asleep almost before the bed was ready, and the moment his head sank into the soft pillow, he closed his eyes.

"He seems unusually good, Anne," ventured Mrs. Stewart, as the four foster mothers stood gazing down at the flushed little baby-face.

"And very pretty for a young child," added Anne.

"Well," sighed Polly, "I suppose we'll have to hand him back in the morning."

"Some time during the night, most likely," grumbled Eleanor. "The police will tell his folks where he is, and they will be at our door ten minutes later."

But no one called for Billy, that night, and in the morning the papers told the story of the foundling. A minute description of his appearance and clothing was given, and the telephone number of the family where he was to be found. Mrs. Evans had wisely refrained from giving any names of the tenants of the Studio.

Before seven o'clock that morning, the telephone began ringing. Anne answered it, but described the baby left on their door-step differently from what the anxious mother on the other end of the wire had expected.

By eight-thirty, the telephone had called Anne or Polly five times. At last Polly said: "My goodness! how can five mothers lose boys like ours in one evening? Can't they take care of them?"

Eleanor then said, "Why, in Chicago, there are records of more than a score of babies lost every day. Most of them find their parents again, but lots of them don't."

"What happens to the poor tots who can't find their folks again?" asked Polly, horrified.

"They go to the orphan asylum-or the Children's Home."

With a gasp, Polly glanced at their laughing little Billy. Then she looked anxiously at her three companions. They had all thought of the same thing, it seems.

"I just couldn't let him go to a foundling home," Polly whimpered.

"We can afford to keep him, Polly. You and I can adopt him," declared Eleanor.

But Anne did not seem to approve of the plan. She shook her head as she gazed at the curly-haired boy who was banging the breakfast table with a teaspoon. "That would never do for you, girls."

But another ring on the telephone interrupted further argument on that subject. Anne described Billy all over again-"Large brown eyes, very soft silky hair-yellow and curly. About thirty pounds weight, eight front teeth, aged about sixteen months."

Before she had completed her description of the foundling, the distracted mother at the other end of the wire sighed: "He's not mine-thank you."

"Polly and I are not going to school this morning, Anne," Eleanor now informed the young teacher.

"I don't see why not?" demanded she.

"First, your mother can't be chasing back and forth to the 'phone all day; and secondly, we do not propose having a stranger calling and stealing our baby. Unless the parents present perfectly satisfactory evidence that Billy is theirs, no one shall get him."

Anne smiled, but seeing that it was almost nine o'clock, she consented to the two girls remaining home that session; furthermore, she promised to explain to Mrs. Wellington about the magnet that had kept them at home.

Later in the morning, Dr. Evans stopped in to see if any one had called for the baby. Polly and Eleanor were in the midst of giving Billy his bath in the large tub. Such laughing and shouting had never been heard in that bathroom before. Even Mrs. Stewart laughed in sympathy, as she told the doctor what a fine well-behaved child Billy was.

"I'll call again this evening, Mrs. Stewart. If he has not been claimed by that time, I will see what I can do to relieve you of his care."