One day, after Bob had acquired sufficient confidence in himself and in the baby to handle it without anxiety to the nurse, he begged permission to show it to the hallman down-stairs.  He returned greatly elated, explaining that the attendant, who had some impossible number of babies of his own and might therefore be considered an authority, declared this one to be the finest he had ever beheld.  Oddly enough, this praise delighted Bob out of all reason.  He remained in a state of suppressed excitement all that day, and on the following afternoon he again kidnapped the child for a second exhibition.  It seemed that the infant’s fame spread rapidly, for soon the tenants of neighboring apartments began to clamor for a sight of it, and Bob was only too eager to gratify them.  Every afternoon he took his son down-stairs with him, until finally Lorelei checked him as he was going out.

“Bob, dear,” she said, with the faintest shadow of a smile.  “I don’t think it’s good for him to go out so often.  Why don’t you ask your father and mother to come up?”

Wharton flushed, then he stammered, “I—­what makes you—­er—­think—­”

“Why, I guessed it the very first day.”  Lorelei’s smile saddened.  “They needn’t see me, you know.”

Bob laid the child back in its bed.  “But that’s just what they want.  They want to see you, only I wouldn’t let you be bothered.  They’re perfectly foolish over the kid; mother cries, and father—­ but just wait.”  He rushed out of the room, and in a few moments returned with his parents.

Hannibal Wharton was deeply embarrassed, but his wife went straight to Lorelei and, bending over her chair, placed a kiss upon her lips.  “There,” said she.  “When you are stronger I’m going to apologize for the way we’ve treated you.  We’re old people.  We’re selfish and suspicious and unreasonable, but we’re not entirely inhuman.  You won’t be too hard on us, will you?”

The old lady’s eyes were shining, the palms which were clasped over Lorelei’s hand were hot and tremulous.  The look of hungry yearning that greeted the elder woman’s words was ample answer, and with a little choking cry she gathered the weak figure into her arms and thrilled as she felt the amber head upon her breast.

Hannibal trumpeted into his handkerchief, then cleared his throat premonitorily, but Bob forestalled him with a happy laugh.  “Don’t hold any post-mortems, dad.  Lorelei knows everything you intend to say.”

“I’m blamed if she does,” rumbled the old man, “because I don’t know myself.  I’m not much on apologies; I can take ’em, but I can’t make ’em.”  His voice rose sternly:  “Young lady, the night that baby was born I stood outside this house for hours because I was afraid to come in.  And my feet hurt like the devil, too.  I wouldn’t lose that much sleep for the whole Steel Trust; but I didn’t dare go back to the hotel, for mother was waiting, and I was afraid of her, too.  I don’t intend to go through another night like that.”