From that bundle came, shrill and piteous, that miserable cry.
CHAPTER II.
A FAIRY CHANGELING.
"Mark! Mark! it is a child, a poor forsaken baby," said Patty, stooping down and gathering into her womanly arms the weeping waif-fragment of the seething sea of humanity so strangely drifted to her door. "A child! Dear Heaven! such a very little child!"
She hurried into the kitchen and laid the bundle on the table in the circle of lamplight, and with careful, eager fingers, began to loosen the wrappings.
"A child!" said Mark, amazed and dull—"a child!"
Then with sudden anger he cried out:
"A child, to the homeless! A child to us, who will not be able to care for our own—a child for forced exiles! Why did they not carry it to the poor-house? There, at least, it might have stayed!"
"Hush, dear!" said Patty. "God only asks of us duty for to-day. To-night we have a home, and can take the stranger in. God will take care of it to-morrow."
"Not that I grudge the poor little wretch," said Mark, looking over his wife's shoulder.