ty that the child's
parents might never be traced, indeed the matter had been constantly
before their minds ever since the parson had carried the baby to
Lingborough, and laid it in the arms of Thomasina, the servant.

Miss Betty had sat long before her toilette-table that evening, gazing
vacantly at the looking-glass. Not that the reflection of the eight
curl-papers she had neatly twisted up was conveyed to her brain. She was
in a brown study, during which the following thoughts passed through her
mind, and they all pointed one way:

That that fine little fellow was not to blame for his people's
misconduct.

That they would never be found.

That it would probably be the means of the poor child's ruin, body and
soul, if they were.

That the master of the neighbouring workhouse bore a bad character.

That a child costs nothing to keep--where cows are kept too--for years.

That just at the age when a boy begins to eat dreadfully and wear out
his clothes, he is very useful on a farm (though not for these reasons).

That Thomasina had taken to him.

That there need be no nonsense about it, as he could be brought up in
his proper station in life in the kitchen and the farm yard.

That tramps have souls.

That he would be taught to say his prayers.

Miss Betty said hers, and went to bed; but all through that midsummer
night the baby kept her awake, or flaunted his yellow robe and crimson
toadstool through her dreams.

The morning brought no change in Miss Betty's views, but she felt
doubtful as to how her sister would receive them. Would she regard them
as foolish and unpractical, and her respect for Miss Betty's opinion be
lessened thenceforward?

The fear was needless. Miss Kitty was romantic and imaginative. She had
carried the baby through his boyhood about the Lingborough fields whilst
she was dressing; and he was attending her own funeral in the capacity
of an attached and faithful servant, in black livery with worsted frogs,
as she sprinkled salt on her buttered toast at breakfast, when she was
startled from this affecting daydream by Miss Betty's voice.

"Dear sister Kitty, I wish to consult you as to our plans in the event
of those wicked people who deserted the baby not being found."

The little ladies resolved that not an inkling of their benevolent
scheme must be betrayed to the lawyer. But they dissembled awkwardly,
and the tone in which they spoke of the tramp-baby roused the lawyer's
quick s