a chalk pit and breaking his neck, but he was
always too anxious about his sheep when overtaken by a fog to think of
his own danger. Then the wages were good, and the same all the year
round, with the chance of making some extra money in the shearing
season, and so much a head on each lamb that he reared; and to all
intents and purposes he was his own master, for the farmer to whom the
sheep belonged entrusted the management of the flock entirely to him.

But while the shepherd was fastening the gate the dog ran to the baby,
whose cry had reached his quick ears before it did his master's, and
having sniffed all round it, he set up some short, quick barks, and ran
back to the shepherd, calling his attention to the baby as plainly as
his inability to speak would allow him.

"What is it, Rover? what is it? Down, sir, it is only the baby crying;
the window must be open," said the shepherd, as he approached the house,
but Rover, as if to contradict his master, ran up to the bundle on the
doorstep, and barked louder than ever.

John Shelley took longer to take in the fact that an infant was lying
crying on his doorstep than his dog had done. He stooped and looked, and
took off his hat to rub his head thoughtfully and stimulate his brain
that he might grasp the idea, and then he stooped again, and this time
picked up the baby, and throwing open the door of the large kitchen,
with its sanded floor of red bricks, stood on the threshold, holding out
the wailing child, and saying--

"Look here, Polly, see what I have found on the doorstep."

Mrs. Shelley, who was sitting working, with her foot on a cradle which
she was rocking gently to and fro, more from habit, since the baby was
asleep, than for any real reason, looked up and saw in her husband's
arms a bundle wrapped in a red shawl embroidered with gold.

"What is it, John?" she asked; but a cry from the bundle answered the
question, and she sprang to her husband's side in astonishment.

She was a tall, good-looking woman, five or six years younger than the
shepherd, with brown hair and eyes, and a rich colour in her cheeks,
which came and went when she was excited; a bright intelligent face,
not beautiful, scarcely handsome in repose, but which at times was so
animated that she often passed for a very pretty woman.

"Give it to me. Oh, John! John! where can it have come from? The dear
little creature! And see what lovely things it has? Only look at this
satin quilt in