"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a flash.
"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!"
The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried.
[Illustration: "'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND--IT'S CRYING!'"]
"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph.
"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to say so."
Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and looked up in her face.
"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!"
The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced at their father; these were women's matters.
"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it curls; see it curl!"
"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm in a sudden movement of delight.
"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once.
Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes.
"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, machine-embroidered--stop! here's a note."
She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a carefully rough hand.
"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake."
"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another masculine presence.
"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. "I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave him. Father, what do you say?"
"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the child was sent."
"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the house."
"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, without taking on any more."