"But this isn't, Totty! It isn't my baby! I don't know who it is."
"Mildred, you're crazy! Of course this is Totty. These are her blue kid shoes. And this is her coat and cap."
"I don't care if they are! It isn't Totty at all. Oh, where is my baby?"
Mrs. Harrison was on the verge of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard was genuinely alarmed.
"Behave yourself, Mildred!" she said, sternly. "Gather yourself together. Here, sip this glass of water."
"I'm perfectly sensible," said Mrs. Harrison, quieting down a little, as she noticed her friend's consternation. "But I tell you, Helen, this is not my baby. Doesn't a mother know her own child? Totty's hair is a little longer, and her eyes are a little larger. I don't know who this baby is, but she isn't mine."
"I believe you're right," said Mrs. Maynard, looking more closely at the screaming baby.
"There, there!" she said, taking the frightened little one in her own arms.
"Ma-ma!" cried the baby.
"Hear her voice!" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison. "That isn't the way my Totty talks. Oh, Helen, what has happened?"