"Hey, Giz, heard the news about ol' Whiting that lives nex' door to Doc Richards?"
Gizzard shook his head skeptically.
"Well, sir, when he went out on his porch to get his paper this morning, what do you s'pose he found there in a basket?"
"Apples?"
"I should say not! He found a little girl baby, as red as a beet!"
Gizzard was inclined to belittle this announcement. "That's nuthin'," he muttered; "the folks who live 'cross the street from us had twins last week—"
"But you don't understand!" cried Sube impatiently. "This was a founding!"
"A what?" asked Gizzard with a blank stare.
"A founding. It didn't have any mother or father, or an'thing 'xcept a 'nomynous letter."
"A what letter?" demanded Gizzard.