Knowltop had providentially been opened for the week end in
order to entertain a house party in honor of the old gentleman's
sixty-seventh birthday. He was one of the first to arrive, and
he put his entire place at our disposal. It was the nearest
refuge, and we accepted it instantaneously. We bundled our
twenty littlest tots into cars, and ran them down to the house.
The guests, who were excitedly dressing in order to come to the
fire, received the chicks and tucked them away into their own
beds. This pretty well filled up all the available house room,
but Mr. Reimer (Mr. Knowltop's family name) has just built a big
new stucco barn, with a garage hitched to it, all nicely heated,
and ready for us.

After the babies were disposed of in the house, those helpful
guests got to work and fixed the barn to receive the next older
kiddies. They covered the floor with hay, and spread blankets
and carriage robes over it, and bedded down thirty of the
children in rows like little calves. Miss Matthews and a nurse
went with them, administered hot milk all around, and within half
an hour the tots were sleeping as peacefully as in their little
cribs.

But meanwhile we at the house were having sensations. The
doctor's first question upon arrival had been:

"You've counted the children? You know they're all here?"

"We've made certain that every dormitory was empty before we
left it," I replied.