garded
the baby with interest and sympathy.

"Poor little mite!" she said; "that doesn't know what he's lost and
what's going to happen to him. Seems to me we might keep him a spell
till we're sure his father's deserted him for good. Want to come to Aunt
Sarah, baby?"

Jack-o'-lantern turned from Rebecca and Emma Jane and regarded the kind
face gravely; then he held out both his hands and Mrs. Cobb, stooping,
gathered him like a harvest. Being lifted into her arms, he at once tore
her spectacles from her nose and laughed aloud. Taking them from him
gently, she put them on again, and set him in the cushioned rocking
chair under the lilac bushes beside the steps. Then she took one of his
soft hands in hers and patted it, and fluttered her fingers like birds
before his eyes, and snapped them like castanets, remembering all the
arts she had lavished upon "Sarah Ellen, aged seventeen months," years
and years ago.

Motherless baby and babyless mother,
Bring them together to love one another.

Rebecca knew nothing of this couplet, but she saw clearly enough that
her case was won.

"The boy must be hungry; when was he fed last?" asked Mrs. Cobb. "Just
stay a second longer while I get him some morning's milk; then you
run home to your dinners and I'll speak to Mr. Cobb this afternoon. Of
course, we can keep the baby for a week or two till we see what happens.
Land! He ain't goin' to be any more trouble than a wax doll! I guess he
ain't been used to much attention, and that kind's always the easiest to
take care of."

At six o'clock that evening Rebecca and Emma Jane flew up the hill and
down the lane again, waving their hands to the dear old couple who were
waiting for them in the usual place, the back piazza where they had sat
so many summers in a blessed companionship never marred by an unloving
word.

"Where's Jacky?" called Rebecca breathlessly, her voice always
outrunning her feet.

"Go up to my chamber, both of you, if you want to see," smiled Mrs.
Cobb, "only don't wake him up."

The girls went softly up the stairs into Aunt Sarah's room. There, in
the turn-up bedstead that had been so long empty, slept Jack-o'-lantern,
in blissful unconsciousness of the doom he had so lately escaped. His
nightgown and pillow case were clean and fragrant with lavender, but
they were both as yellow as saffron, for they had belonged to Sarah
Ellen.

"I wish his mother could see him!" whispered Emma Jane.

"You can