erved dad's demi-tasse.

I guess I then looked him full in the eyes for the first time since the
occurrence on Front Street.

"That was a very unkind thing for Blink Broosmore to do," said dad, and
I knew by the firmness and evenness of his voice that he had gained full
control of his feelings.

"Is--is--oh, did he tell the truth, dad?" I gulped helplessly and for
the life of me I could not keep back the tears.

"Unfortunately, Donald, there is just enough truth in it to make it
hurt," said dad and I could see mother wince as if she had been struck,
and turn away her face.

"They why--why? Oh! who am I?" I cried, for the whole thing had
completely unnerved me.

"Don dear, we do not know to a certainty," said mother struggling with
her emotions.

"But now that you are partly aware of the situation, I think there is a
way you can find out, at least as much as we know," said dad, getting up
and going into the library.

Through the doorway I could see him fumbling at the safe that he kept
there beside the desk. Presently he drew out a battered and dented red
tin box and a bundle of papers. These he brought into the dining room
and laid on the table. Then he drew up a chair, cleared his throat,
rather loudly it seemed to me, and began.

"Don, we always wanted a child, and why the Lord never blessed us with
one of our own we do not know. Anyway, we wanted one so badly that we
decided to adopt one. That was seventeen years ago, wasn't it, mother?"

Mother nodded.

"Doctor Raymond, the physician at the county institution, knew our
desires and, being an old friend of the family, he volunteered to find
us a good healthy baby that we could adopt and call our own. Not a week
later you appeared on the scene. Dr. Raymond told us that a wagon drawn
by a raw-boned horse, and loaded with household goods, drew up to the
orphanage and a tired and worn-out looking old lady got out with a lusty
year old child in one arm and this box and these papers under the
other.

"At the office of the asylum she explained how she and her husband were
moving from a Connecticut town to a little farm they had bought in
Pennsylvania. Somewhere at a crossroad near Derby, Connecticut, they had
found the baby and this box and bundle of papers in a basket under a
bush with a card attached to the basket requesting that the finder adopt
and take care of the baby.

"Of course, they could not pass the infant by, but the woman explained
that they w