THE WRONG BABY.
In this way they rode on for four miles. "Almost half way," Fanny observed, as they passed the five corners; "I suppose Mr. and Mrs. Matthews are home by this time."
Just then, Josey awoke with a start and cry of alarm, which roused his sister, and made her open her eyes. Fanny, who sat opposite, pulled back her hood to quiet her, when, with a shriek, mamma cried out,—
"We've got the wrong baby! Oh, Nurse, you made a mistake! This is Mrs. Matthews' Rose. Husband, stop the driver, quick!"
"Are you sure?" asked papa, who had been taking a short nap.
"Sure? Can't I tell my own baby? Emma has black eyes; and, look for yourself, is this my baby's dress?"
"I see no difference, my dear."
"But, Frederick, it's awful, and every minute we're going farther away from our little darling."
"Well, my dear, if you are positive, we must turn back, but it is a great pity such a mistake was made."
"Mrs. Reed dressed both the babies," explained Aunt Fanny, trying to recover her senses, after the fright.
"And I only carried down the one she gave me," argued Ann, choking back a sob. "I saw it was our baby's cloak, and I never mistrusted the right one wasn't inside of it."
It was a difficult matter to make the driver comprehend that he was expected to go eight or ten extra miles to change babies.
"Why isn't one as good as t'other?" he asked, grumbling. "The horses 'll never go through with it, and at this time of night it's no use."
But Mr. Codman, who was now wide awake, and well understood the distress which agitated his wife, without the squeeze she was giving his hand, and her continual "Oh dear! Oh, my poor baby!" now said, firmly,—
"We wont waste words about it. We must go to Easton parsonage as quickly as possible."
"I'll take the short cut, then, across the moor. The moon is so bright I can keep out of the ruts."
"But then we lose the chance of seeing them. They may have found out the mistake earlier, and be on the way to meet us. Drive on!"
But driver still demurred, muttering that it was a bad job, and he couldn't be going over the ground four times without good pay.
"How much do you want for yourself?" asked the gentleman. "I hire the carriage by the month."
"A couple of dollars is little enough."
"I'll give you three; now drive on."
The carriage door shut with a snap, and they started off, driver lashing his horses with the whip.
"We must look out that they don't pass us," said the clergyman.
"I'll keep watch," responded Aunt Fanny, decidedly. "I wonder what Josey would say if he were awake?"
"If our driver had been a father," exclaimed Mrs. Codman, "he wouldn't have asked why one wouldn't do as well as t'other."
"Hem!" exclaimed Aunt Fanny, indignantly. "'Twouldn't have hurt the man to have heard your sermon to-night, brother. I don't think he's very kind, any way."
"He was probably at the ale-house, and had taken enough to make him cross."
"Had he heard you describe how God rewards our love to others by peace in our own hearts, he would have been more kind."
"Well, Fanny, be as tender in your thoughts as you can. It is hard for the man to lose three or four hours of his sleep."
"O, you always are ready to find excuses!" she answered, laughing.
"I ought to practise what I preach, oughtn't I?" He looked archly in her face.
"I hope Emma wont wake," said mamma, anxiously. "Little Rosa sleeps as quietly as a kitten. How strange that none of us noticed the change."
"It's no joke," said Fanny, though she could not help laughing.
They were going over a rough part of the road, and Josey, after growing restless, suddenly started up.
"Are we most home?" he asked in a sleepy tone.
"We'll get there by and by," answered his father, cheerfully.
"I'm afraid we shall have to go all the way to Mr. Matthews'," said mamma. "Next time, I'll dress baby myself.'
"Miss Fanny sent me to put on my bonnet," urged nurse. "She said you were in a hurry."
"No one is to blame, nurse," said her kind master. "It is simply unfortunate."
Mile after mile they drove on, only meeting an occasional carriage, until they came in sight of Easton Parsonage. Here the lights were all out, except one in the chamber; and there persons could be seen moving about.
A vigorous knock soon brought Mr. Matthews to the door. "I heard wheels," he said, "and more than half suspected who it was. We made a sad mistake."
Martin came down, her face very red, bringing baby Emma, and Ann gladly gave up her charge.
Mrs. Matthews soon appeared with marks of tears.
"Wasn't it dreadful!" she exclaimed, with a fresh burst of grief. "I wanted to go right back. We were only two miles from the city when we found out we had brought away the wrong baby; but Mr. Matthews said no, we must keep her till morning. He thought it very careless of us, but"—
"There was no carelessness about it," urged Fanny, indignantly. "Mrs. Reed wanted to help; and she put on the wrong cloaks, that was all. There was never a thought with us of not coming back. Brother wouldn't have hesitated if it had been twice as far. We knew you'd want your baby, and we wanted ours."
"I thought you would understand that we should keep your little Miss till morning," explained Mr. Matthews.
"But mothers have such tender hearts," added Mr. Codman, "and we ought to thank God for it. Come, wife, we must be off. We have fourteen miles to go, and it's almost twelve o'clock."
"There's a difference in ministers as in other folks," whispered Martin aside to Ann. "Mr. Matthews scolded well, and wouldn't hear of going back; but your master did as he would be done by."
"Just like his text," returned Ann. "'Be ye kind one to another.'"
