had not the mothers been so eager to know their
fate. They appeared in person early the next morning to see if the
babies had frozen to death on the doorstep. Mrs. Pool even went so far
as to fetch some extra baby clothes which she had neglected to drop with
her male. Mrs. Raspus came for her basket, claiming it was the only one
she had in which to "tote" the washing for the men.

After these annoying but enlivening incidents Anderson was permitted to
recover from his daze and to throw off symptoms of nervous prostration.
Tinkletown resumed its tranquil attitude and the checker games began to
thrive once more. Little Rosalie was a week older than when she came,
but it was five weeks before anything happened to disturb the even tenor
of the foster-father's way. He had worked diligently in the effort to
discover the parents of the baby, but without result. Two or three
exasperated husbands in Tinkletown had threatened to blow his brains out
if he persisted in questioning their wives in his insinuating manner,
and one of the kitchen girls at the village inn threw a dishpan at him
on the occasion of his third visit of inquiry. A colored woman in the
employ of the Baptist minister denied that Rosalie was her child, but
when he insisted, agreed with fine sarcasm to "go over an' have a look
at it," after his assurance that it was perfectly white.

"Eva, I've investigated the case thoroughly," he said at last, "an'
there is no solution to the mystery. The only thing I c'n deduce is that
the child is here an' we'll have to take keer of her. Now, I wonder if
that woman really meant it when she said we'd have a thousand dollars
at the end of each year. Doggone, I wish the year was up, jest to see."

"We'll have to wait, Anderson, that's all," said Mrs. Crow. "I love the
baby so it can't matter much. I'm glad you're through investigatin'.
It's been most tryin' to me. Half the women in town don't speak to me."

It was at the end of Rosalie's fifth week as a member of the family that
something happened. Late one night when Anderson opened the front door
to put out the cat a heavily veiled woman mounted the steps and accosted
him. In some trepidation he drew back and would have closed the door but
for her eager remonstrance.

"I must see you, Mr. Crow," she cried in a low, agitated voice.

"Who are you?" he demanded. She was dressed entirely in black.

"I came to see you about the baby."

"That won't do, madam. There's been th