“Mabel! Mabel! come here with the baby this moment! Didn’t I tell you to let him sleep in the basket?”
Mabel appeared slowly from the back yard.
“You naughty child!” cried the worried woman. “You don’t deserve to have a darling baby brother. And you broke his carriage, too—I verily believe—so you wouldn’t have to wheel him in it. Where is he?”
“Ain’t touched him,” declared Mabel, sullenly.
“You—what do you mean? Where is the basket with the baby in it?” demanded Mrs. Creamer, wildly.
“Oh!” gasped Dot and—as she usually did when she was startled—she grabbed up her Alice-doll and hugged her to her bosom.
“I—I don’t know,” declared Mabel, looking rather scared now. “Honest, Mamma—I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s been kidnapped! Thieves! Gypsies!”
The poor mother’s shrieks might have been heard a block. Neighbors came running. Milton had only a small police force, but one of the officers chanced to be within hearing. He came, heard the exciting tale, and galloped off to the nearest telephone to let them know at headquarters that there was a child mysteriously missing.
“Why, isn’t that funny?” said Dot to Tess. “If he was a kidnapper, he looked just like the laundryman.”