"There! thank the gentleman, and then run out and peel the potatoes and turnips. And be sure you don't lose your pennies," said the woman, who had no idea that the children's gifts had been half-eagles.
The well-trained little girls obeyed their mother in every particular. And as soon as they had left the room, Mr. Berners turned to the woman and inquired:
"Are those fine children your only ones?"
"I never had any but them until about three months ago, when that boy in the cradle came to put a surprise on me. Look at him, sir! An't he a hearty little chap for a three monther?"
"Indeed he is!" acknowledged Mr. Berners, as he turned down the coverlet and gazed at the fat, rosy babe. "And now," he continued, as he replaced the cover, "will you let me look at your nurse-child? I—I am its guardian, and responsible for the expense of its rearing."
"So I judged, sir, when I first saw you. The gentleman that brought the child to me, and gave me a hundred dollars with it, told me how, in about a couple of months, the guardian of the child would come to make further arrangements. And you're him, sir?"
"I am he," gravely replied Lyon Berners, as he gazed fondly down on the face of his sleeping babe, and traced in the delicate features and silky black hair and faintly drawn black eye-brows the lineaments of its mother.
"Well, sir, I can tell you, for your satisfaction, that the child is in good hands."
"I have no doubt of it. And," he continued, after some hesitation, "I can tell you, for your satisfaction, that the child is all right. She was born in lawful wedlock."
"I'm glad to hear that, for the child's sake, sir; though if what you tell me is true, as I suppose it is, I don't see why the parents can't own their child."