to open as ever.

The cottage door was not closed.

I saw our amiable laundress in the passage, on her knees, trying to open
an inner door which seemed to be locked. She had her eye at the keyhole;
and, once again, she called out: "Please, miss, let me in." I waited to
see if the door would be opened--nothing happened. I waited again, to
hear if some person inside would answer--nobody spoke. But somebody,
or something, made a sound of splashing water on the other side of the
door.

I showed myself, and asked what was the matter.

Mrs. Molly looked at me helplessly. She said: "Miss Eunice, it's the
baby."

"What has the baby done?" I inquired.

Mrs. Molly got on her feet, and whispered in my ear: "You know he's a
fine child?"

"Yes."

"Well, miss, he's bewitched a lady."

"What lady?"

"Miss Jillgall."

The very person I had been trying to find! I asked where she was.

The laundress pointed dolefully to the locked door: "In there."

"And where is your baby?"

The poor woman still pointed to the door: "I'm beginning to doubt, miss,
whether it is my baby."

"Nonsense, Mrs. Molly. If it isn't yours, whose baby can it be?"

"Miss Jillgall's."

Her puzzled face made this singular reply more funny still. The
splashing of water on the other side of the door began again. "What is
Miss Jillgall doing now?" I said.

"Washing the baby, miss. A week ago, she came in here, one morning;
very pleasant and kind, I must own. She found me putting on the baby's
things. She says: 'What a cherub!' which I took as a compliment. She
says: 'I shall call again to-morrow.' She called again so early that
she found the baby in his crib. 'You be a good soul,' she says, 'and
go about your work, and leave the child to me.' I says: 'Yes, miss, but
please to wait till I've made him fit to be seen.' She says: 'That's
just what I mean to do myself.' I stared; and I think any other person
would have done the same in my place. 'If there's one thing more than
another I enjoy,' she says, 'it's making myself useful. Mrs. Molly, I've
taken a fancy to your boy-baby,' she says, 'and I mean to make myself
useful to _him_.' If you will believe me, Miss Jillgall has only let
me have one opportunity of putting my own child tidy. She was late
this morning, and I got my chance, and had the boy on my lap, drying
him--when in she burst like a blast of wind, and snatched the baby away
from me. 'This is your nasty temper,' she says; 'I declare I'm