Although the village was thoroughly canvassed, Miss Bascom was obliged to content herself with the McCarthy baby and the Fletcher twins, and the Warren baby, until, one morning, a colored woman appeared with a bundle in her arms. As she was the first voluntary contributor of live stock, she was warmly welcomed, and a great fuss made over the tiny black infant which gradually emerged from the folds of an old shawl “like a cuckoo out of its cocoon,” as Mary Quinn remarked. This, of course, was very nice and encouraging, but most unfortunately, 107 when night came, the mother did not appear to claim her progeny, nor did she ever turn up again. Of course it was a mere oversight on her part, but Virginia was much disturbed, for, to her very great embarrassment, she found herself the undisputed possessor of a coal black baby. She was horrified beyond measure, and sent at once for Mrs. Burke.
“What shall I do, what shall I do, Mrs. Burke?” she cried. Mrs. Burke gazed musingly at the writhing black blot on the white and rose blanket, and suggested:
“Pity you couldn’t adopt it, Virginia. You always loved children.”
“Adopt it!” Virginia screamed hysterically. “What in the world can you be thinking of?”
“Well, I can’t think of anything else, unless I can persuade Andy Johnston, the colored man on the farm, to adopt it. He wouldn’t mind its complexion as much as you seem to.”
Virginia brightened considerably at this suggestion, exclaiming excitedly:
“Oh Mrs. Burke, do you really think you could?”
“Well, I don’t know. Perhaps so. At any rate, if we offer to help pay the extra expense, Mrs. Johnston might bring the baby up as her own. Then they can name it Virginia Bascom Johnston, you see.” 108
Virginia bit her lip, but she managed to control her temper as she exclaimed quite cheerfully:
“Mrs. Burke, you are so very kind. You are always helping somebody out of a scrape.”