Wonderingly the two Bobbsey twins followed their father, the constable and the old woman into the farmhouse. The old woman suddenly burst into tears as she was about to open the door of a room.
“I hope nothing has happened to Baby May,” said Mr. Bobbsey, for he and his wife had grown to love the baby very much.
“Oh, no, Jenny is all right. She is asleep, I think,” said the old woman. “But I feel so bad over all that has happened. It wasn’t exactly my fault—I couldn’t help it. But if I had not gotten the baby back! Oh, it would have been terrible!” She wiped away her tears.
“Don’t feel bad,” said Mr. Bobbsey kindly. “Of course I don’t understand it at all—why you should abandon the baby and then kidnap her—but—”
“Hush!” whispered the old lady, putting her finger to her lips as she stepped into the darkened room. Softly she raised the curtain, and there on a bed Nan and the others saw the baby sweetly sleeping.
“Oh, the little darling!” murmured Nan. “I’m so glad we have her back!”
“Well, my dear,” whispered the old woman, “I’m afraid I can’t let you have her back. You see she has a father and mother of her own, and they will want their baby.”
“Then you aren’t the mother?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, more and more puzzled over the matter.
“No, I am not Jenny’s mother,” was the answer. “If you will come into the next room, where we can talk without waking baby, I’ll tell you the story. It is a very strange one.”
“Well,” said Mr. Bobbsey, when they were all seated in a pleasant room of the farmhouse where, the old woman said, she had engaged board for herself and the baby, “we are now ready for the story. And then I must telephone to my wife that the baby is all right.”