She hurried away, and, finally, I heard the front door closing, after which I made a clean copy of that dog story, flattering myself that it had turned out rather neatly. It was finished at two o'clock, and I went to bed.
The next morning was a Sunday. I dawdled at length over my dressing and sallied forth at eleven, after Mrs. Milliken had knocked at my door twice to know if she could make the room. If I were an Edison, I should invent an automatic room-making and womanless contrivance. These great men, after all, do little that is truly useful and practical.
My neighbor's door was open. I coughed somewhat emphatically, after which I discreetly knocked upon the doorframe.
"Come in, Mr. Cole," said a cheery, but slightly husky, voice. "Come in and look at the darling."
"That was my purpose, Madame Dupont," I said most veraciously.
"Eulalie has gone out again," I was informed, after the infant had been duly exhibited, as it slept with its two fists tightly closed. "She has gone for a box of Graham crackers and the Sunday paper."
I smiled, civilly, and opined that the day's heat would not be so oppressing.
"Don't you want to sit down for a moment?" she asked me.
I was about to obey, when I heard the elephantine step of the washerwoman's sister, who entered, bearing her parcels and the Courrier des Etats Unis.
"Excuse me for just a second," said the husky little voice.