“Poor Middy hung’y,” she said at last, and this time she eagerly welcomed the milk and crackers.
“Now, Poor Middy s’eepy,” she announced, when her meal was over, and willingly she allowed Patty to bathe her hands and face and put her to rest on the couch in the living-room.
“Did you ever see anything so pretty?” exclaimed Patty to Nan, as the latter returned. “She’s been sleeping nearly two hours. See her little hand, just like a crumpled rose-leaf. What will Dad say?”
They let the baby sit up until Mr. Fairfield’s arrival, anxious to know his opinion of the strange circumstance.
“Well, bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “Patty, what queer jinks will you cut up next?”
“But, Dads, it surely wasn’t my fault! It was none of my doing!”
“Of course not, child. I expect you’re one of those cut out for queer happenings. There are such people, you know.”
“Well, but what do you think about it? How do you explain it? Do you think, as Nan does, that kidnappers put her in the car, because they were frightened for their own safety, if found with the little thing?”
“Not altogether likely. I think it’s more probable the mother abandoned it.”
“Oh, how could she! That angel child. She is a beauty, isn’t she, Daddy?”