She held out her arms to the weeping baby, and he came toddling to her. She lifted him to her lap and cuddled him down against her breast.
"There, there!" she soothed. "Now you're all right. Well," turning to the men, "he feels just like any other baby, black or white."
Dr. Eaton looked at the white head bent over the black one and again he started to laugh, but Drusilla looked up with a slight flush on her face and a sparkle in her eyes that plainly said that she had had enough of laughter, and he stopped.
"What are you going to do with this one? Now we'd better send for Mr. Thornton."
Drusilla looked at him severely.
"Don't you be a fool, Dr. Eaton. I don't want Mr. Thornton to know nothin' about this one. I'd never hear the last of it."
"Well, then you'd better let me take him to the police station."
"Yes—" hesitatingly; "I suppose so. But—" and she looked down at the baby who was contentedly playing with the trimming on her dress—"I jest hate to send a baby there."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Dr. Eaton. "There's a big colored orphan asylum out on the Elpham Road. Let's telephone up there, and I'll take it over myself."
Drusilla hesitated again.