ing for, a little girl; it shall be
Charlie's foster-sister. All I hope is, whoever brought it will let us
keep it. I love it already!"

"But, Polly, it isn't our child. We must take care of it, of course, for
to-night, but you will have to go to Parson Leslie to-morrow and ask him
what we ought to do to find out who it belongs to."

"Indeed, and I shall do no such thing," said Mrs. Shelley, hastily.

But the shepherd was master in his own home, and announced decidedly--

"Then I must go to-night, late as it is."

"And knock the parson up? It will be eleven o'clock before you get
there. Sit down and get your supper, do, John, and we can talk about
consulting him to-morrow."

"That won't do, Polly; either I must go to the rector to-night or you
must promise to go to-morrow. Which is it to be?"

"There never was such a pig-headed man as you. If you set your mind on a
thing there is no turning you. I suppose I shall have to go, or you'll
be rushing off now, and I want my supper. One thing I am sure of, John,
and that is, the baby belongs to rich people, and, I think, to some
nobleman, for all the things have a coronet on them, and its clothes are
all so fine."

"Is there no name on any of them?"

"No, nor anything to give us the least idea who the child is. It has
evidently been accustomed to luxury, though, and somehow I fancy it is a
foreign child. I never saw any baby's clothes made as these are," said
Mrs. Shelley.

A foreign child was an idea John Shelley could not accept so suddenly.
His slow phlegmatic mind could not travel beyond his own
country--scarcely beyond the Sussex downs.

"More likely to be one of the quality's children. They don't make their
clothes as we do, I expect; but if you show Mr. Leslie that coronet he
may be able to make something of it."

And so it was arranged that Mrs. Shelley should go the next day and
consult the rector about their new-found treasure; but she fully made up
her mind to use all the eloquence in her power to persuade Mr. Leslie to
convince John it was plainly their duty to keep the baby which had been
so mysteriously brought to them until its rightful owners claimed it.

The next morning John Shelley was up betimes, as, indeed, he always was;
but it was shearing time, and he was unusually busy, and it was,
moreover, Saturday, and he hoped, with the help of the men who went
round the country shearing in the month of June, to finish his flock
that evening, so tak