“I must have another little girl,” she sobbed night after night.  “I must have another little girl!”

And once more the way out was provided.  We heard of a little girl who was to be put out for adoption; she was of good but unfortunate parents.  We proposed to adopt her.

I have heard many arguments against adopting children, but I have never heard a good one.  Even the infant doomed to die could enrich, if only for a few weeks, the lives of a childless couple, and they would be happier for the rest of their days in the knowledge that they had tried to do something worthy in this world and had made comfortable the brief life of a little one.

“What if the child should turn out wrong?” I hear often from the lips of men and women.

“What of that?” I reply.  “You can at least be happy in the thought that you have tried to do something for another.”

To childless couples everywhere I would say with all the force I can employ, adopt a baby!  If you would make glorious the home you are building; if you would fill its rooms with laughter and contentment; if you would make your house more than a place in which to eat and sleep; if you would fill it with happy memories and come yourselves into a closer and more perfect union, adopt a baby!  Then, in a year or two, adopt another.  He who spends money on a little child is investing it to real purpose; and the dividends it pays in pride and happiness and contentment are beyond computation.

Marjorie came to us when she was three years old.  She bubbled over with mirth and laughter and soothed the ache in our hearts.  She filled the little niches and comers of our lives with her sweetness, and became not only ours in name, but ours also in love and its actualities.

There were those who suggested that we were too young to adopt a child.  They told us that the other children would undoubtedly be sent to us as time went on.  I have neither the space here nor the inclination to list the imaginary difficulties outlined to us as the possibilities of adoption.

But Mother and I talked it all over one evening.  And we decided that we needed Marjorie, and Marjorie needed us.  As to the financial side of the question, I smiled.

“I never heard of anyone going to the poorhouse, or into bankruptcy,” I said, “because of the money spent on a child.  I fancy I can pay the bills.”

That settled it.  The next evening when I came home, down the stairway leading to our flat came the cry, “Hello, Daddy!” from one of the sweetest little faces I have ever seen.  And from that day, until God needed her more and called her home, that “Hello, Daddy” greeted me and made every care worth while.