opened it and went in, mounted the steps, plied the brass
knocker, and waited in childlike faith for a summons to enter and make
himself at home.

SCENE V.

_The White Farm. Afternoon._

TIMOTHY FINDS A HOUSE IN WHICH HE THINKS A BABY IS NEEDED, BUT THE
INMATES DO NOT ENTIRELY AGREE WITH HIM.

Meanwhile, Miss Avilda Cummins had left her window and gone into the
next room for a skein of yarn. She answered the knock, however; and,
opening the door, stood rooted to the threshold in speechless
astonishment, very much as if she had seen the shades of her ancestors
drawn up in line in the dooryard.

Off went Timothy's hat. He hadn't seen the lady's face very clearly when
she was knitting at the window, or he would never have dared to knock;
but it was too late to retreat. Looking straight into her cold eyes with
his own shining gray ones, he said bravely, but with a trembling voice,
"Do you need any babies here, if you please?" (Need any babies! What an
inappropriate, nonsensical expression, to be sure; as if a baby were
something exquisitely indispensable, like the breath of life, for
instance!)

No answer. Miss Vilda was trying to assume command of her scattered
faculties and find some clue to the situation. Timothy concluded that
she was not, after all, the lady of the house; and, remembering the
marble doorplate in the orchard, tried again. "Does Miss Martha Cummins
live here, if you please?" (Oh, Timothy! what induced you, in this
crucial moment of your life, to touch upon that sorest spot in Miss
Vilda's memory?)

"What do you want?" she faltered.

"I want to get somebody to adopt my baby," he said; "if you haven't got
any of your own, you couldn't find one half as dear and as pretty as she
is; and you needn't have me too, you know, unless you should need me to
help take care of her."

"You're very kind," Miss Avilda answered sarcastically, preparing to
shut the door upon the strange child; "but I don't think I care to adopt
any babies this afternoon, thank you. You'd better run right back home
to your mother, if you've got one, and know where 't is, anyhow."

"I--haven't!" cried poor Timothy, with a sudden and unpremeditated burst
of tears at the failure of his hopes; for he was half child as well as
half hero. At this juncture Gay opened her eyes, and burst into a wild
howl at the unwonted sight of Timothy's grief; and Rags, who was full of
exquisite sensibility, and quite ready to weep with those