“What is it?” called Mrs. Bobbsey. “What is it, Nan?”
“Oh, Mother, come quick!” exclaimed Nan. “There’s a basket here! A basket—and it has—it has a baby in it! Oh, a little baby!”
The other Bobbsey twins hurried to the front door, followed by their father and mother. They saw Nan bending over a large, square, market basket that rested in the shelter of the doorway, off to one side.
Nan had folded back the heavy cloth cover of the basket. And there, nestled in a warm blanket and looking up at the Bobbseys, was a dear, sweet, cute, little baby, about a year old. It had blue eyes, golden curls, and as it kicked its tiny feet and moved its tiny hands it smiled up at the faces bending over it.
“Oh, my goodness! A baby! A darling baby!” gasped Mrs. Bobbsey.
“Whose is it?” asked Mr. Bobbsey. “Some one must have lost it!”
“They don’t lose babies!” declared his wife. “It was left here!”
“Left here! On purpose, do you mean?” cried her husband.
Mrs. Bobbsey nodded her head solemnly. Nan had stooped over and was lifting the tiny creature from its nest in the basket.
“Oh, Mother! may we keep it?” begged Flossie.