“Now,” said Patty, “we really must decide what we’re going to do with that infant; for I warn you, Papa Fairfield, that if we keep that dear baby around much longer, I shall become so attached to her that I can’t give her up.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Fairfield, “she must be turned over to the authorities. I’ll attend to it the first thing in the morning.”
A little later Mr. Fairfield and Nan strolled down the road to make a call on a neighbour, and Patty and Dick Phelps remained at home.
Patty had declared she wouldn’t leave the house lest Rosabel should waken and cry out, so promising to make but a short call, Mr. Fairfield and Nan went away.
Soon after they had gone, a strange young man came walking toward the house. He turned in at the gate and approached the front steps.
“Is this Mr. Richard Phelps?” he asked, addressing himself to Dick.
“It is; what can I do for you?”
“Do you own a large black racing automobile?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Phelps.
“And were you out in it this afternoon,” continued the stranger, “driving rapidly between here and North Point?”