ely after the secret visit
of the mysterious woman; the Circuit Court at Boggs City, after hearing
the evidence, at once entered the appointment of Mr. Crow. When the
court asked in mild surprise why he did not adopt the child, Anderson
and Eva looked at each other sheepishly and were silent for a full
minute. Then Anderson spoke up a bit huskily:

"Well, you see, judge, her name would have to be Crow, an' while it's a
good name an' an honoured one, it don't jest seem to fit the young 'un.
She 'pears to be more of a canary than a crow, figuratively speakin',
and Eva an' me jest decided we'd give her a different sort of a last
name if we could find one. Seems to me that Rosie Canary would be a good
one, but Eva an' the childern are ag'in me. They've decided to call her
Rosalie Gray, an' I guess that about settles it. If you don't mind, I
reckon that name c'n go in the records. Besides, you must recollect that
she's liable to have a lot of property some time, an' it seems more fit
fer me to be guardian than foster-father if that time ever comes. It'll
be easier to say good-bye if she keers to leave us."

That same day Anderson deposited two hundred and fifty dollars to his
credit in the First National Bank, saying to his wife as he walked away
from the teller's window, "I guess Rosalie cain't starve till the bank
busts, an' maybe not then."

Of course Tinkletown knew that a sum of money had been paid to Anderson,
but no one knew that it had been handed to him in person by an
interested party. Had Anderson and his wife even whispered that such a
visit had occurred, the town would have gone into a convulsion of wrath;
the marshal's pedestal would have been jerked out from under him without
compunction or mercy. Eva cautioned him to be more than silent on the
subject for the child's sake as well as for their own, and Anderson saw
wisdom in her counselling. He even lagged in his avowed intention to
unravel the mystery or die in the attempt. A sharp reminder in the shape
of an item in the _Banner_ restored his energies, and he again took up
the case with a vigour that startled even himself. Anything in the shape
of vigour startled his wife.

Harry Squires, the reporter, who poked more or less fun at Anderson from
time to time because he had the "power of the press behind him," some
weeks later wrote the following item about the "baby mystery," as he
called it, in large type:

"There is no news in regard to the child