He voiced no threat, but Azalea felt pretty sure he meant to take the baby himself if she refused to go with them.

She thought quickly, but no avenue of escape could she see.  It would be utterly useless to call Janet, for she was a nervous, timid girl, and would probably run away at sight of this strange man.

The nursery, too, was on the other side of the house, and she couldn’t make Janet hear if she tried.

The Gale house also was on the other side of the Farnsworth house, and so, indeed, if Azalea chose to call for help, it would do no good.  Doubtless Phil would be along shortly, but there was no telling, for there was always a merry crowd on the Gale’s piazza and he would stay there talking for a time.

But Merritt was impatient, and he finally broke out with; “Make up your mind, please, and quickly.  Will you bring the baby quietly, or shall I just—­take her along.”

He held out his arms to Fleurette, who, always ready to make friends with strangers, smiled and leaned toward him.

Azalea had wild thoughts of running away,—­anywhere,—­but she knew the futility of such a plan.  Merritt was a big and strong man, and though Azalea was a swift runner, she could not get a start without his intervening.

She tried pleading.  She appealed to his manliness, his kindness, his generosity,—­all with no success.

“Don’t talk rubbish,” he said, shortly; “you know as well as I do, it won’t hurt the child.  In fact, I came to get her to-day, myself, because I knew her nurse was out,—­and I saw you go off,—­and later, all the rest of the bunch.  If you hadn’t come back,—­confound you!  I’d have had that child over there by this time!”

Azalea gasped.  So her premonition had been a true one after all!  Had she not returned, Merritt would have easily overcome Janet and taken the baby off with him.  She knew they would not harm Fleurette,—­indeed, would be most careful of her.  Unless, perhaps, they should give her soothing-sirup again.  Well they’d get no chance, for Azalea was determined the baby should not be taken from her, and she most certainly was not going herself.

“You know what it will mean to you,” Merritt threatened; “if I so advise Bixby, he’ll throw you over.  How’d you like to lose your job now that you’ve just begun to make good?”

“That’s nothing to do with it,” Azalea said, trying to speak calmly and not show how frightened she was.

But Merritt discerned it.

“All right,” he said, “sorry you won’t listen to reason,—­but since you won’t,—­guess I’ll have to use force.”

He took hold of Fleurette’s little arm, to lift her from Azalea’s lap, and the touch roused the girl’s wrath to boiling point.

“Don’t you dare!” she cried, holding the baby tightly.  “Leave,—­leave at once! or I’ll call for help!”

She rose, as if to make good her threat, though she knew there was no help within call.