"Went to see it las' Monday, didn't y'u?"
"I believe I did. I went there the moment I heard about it."
"Went again Tuesday, didn't y'u?"
"Why, I presume—"
"And y'u bought a bottle of something at Westfall's drug store Tuesday afternoon, didn't y'u?"
Miss Lester blushed uncomfortably. "I cannot see what possible connection my going to the drug store could have with this matter," she parried.
"Well, anyhow, y'u went to see this here child again on Wednesday, didn't y'u?" the sheriff persisted.
"Mr. Sheriff," Miss Lester burst forth at last, "you do not seem to understand my position at all. I want to adopt the little darling. I haven't a chick or child in the world that belongs to me. I have been trying to find her parents for days so as to get their consent. That was why I went to the church this evening. When I found the note I had hopes that the mother had in some way learned of my interest in the baby and wanted to talk to me about her. Oh, I am so disappointed! Who could have been cruel enough to do such a thing for a joke?"
The sheriff succumbed as gracefully as possible and allowed that he had been "barkin' up the wrong tree." As he tossed the crumpled sheets on the table, Mr. Cane picked them up.
"You didn't tell me about these, Sheriff," he said. "Where did they come from?"