[A]. Fact.
An unobserved or forgotten witness appeared in the person of Castle’s little daughter Susan, who had crept out from her dark corner to peep at the babes in the blanket.
“That is the one you wrapped up first, Sir,” she said, pointing to the living infant.
“How do you know, my dear?”
“She knows well enough,” said the neighbour; “she had nothing to do but to watch. She——”
“How do you know, my dear?” persisted the surgeon.
“Because this corner of the blanket fell under the grate, and got all black; and when you brought the other baby you wrapped it up in the black part. Look!”
“’Tis all true,” said Castle’s wife, “and her child was born first.”
The surgeon set her right, and considered the matter decided; but it was far from being so. She scolded her little daughter for her testimony till the child slunk out of the room; she pushed the infant roughly from her, and cursed it for its cries. Her neighbour insultingly told her it was certainly sent to make up to her for one of the lads that was going to be hanged, and that it was only a pity she had not had twins. Words, dreadful to hear from a mother’s lips, followed. The contention grew louder and more violent, till the surgeon, fearing for their lives and senses, and being unable any longer to bear a scene so unnatural and horrible, left the room, bearing with him the innocent cause of dispute. Little Susan was on the stairs, still sobbing and afraid to go in; so she was also taken home by the surgeon, when he had sent in a neighbour to tend his two patients.