"I'm going to Fiddler's Green by-and-by," said John, "to see if that woman spoke true, and I must go to Carsham and ask if she was there last night, and where she went to. I must find her if I can."
"And if you can't find her what will you do with the child?"
"I shall keep her, Miss Mary; what else should I do?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Mary, half carelessly. "Some folks would send her to the workhouse."
"Mother and I ain't those folks, are we, Lily?" said John, looking up with a smile, as both little hands grasped his hair. "Come now, tell us what your name is."
Mary looked on at the pretty picture and listened, with a slight smile, as the child whispered—-"Lily."
"John's Lily, ain't you?" she said.
"Don's Lily."
"There—now the bell's stopped, and I shall be late."
Mary was gone, without even a glance at John's delighted face.