“Is it a boy or a girl?” demanded Freddie. “If it’s a boy, keep it!”
“Bring it in, Nan,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “The poor little dear! It must be almost perished with the cold—and hungry, too! Tell Dinah to warm some milk. Oh, what a darling child!”
She leaned over and kissed the soft, roselike cheek as the baby nestled in the warm blankets on Nan’s arm.
“Hum! A baby! I thought it was going to be a cat!” murmured Bert, as he picked up the basket. “Say!” he cried suddenly. “Look here! I know this basket!”
“You do?” exclaimed his father, with much interest.
“Yes. Look, Nan! It’s the basket the queer old lady with the green umbrella was carrying in the storm yesterday afternoon.”
“So it is,” agreed Nan. “Oh, Mother! what does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” was the answer, “except that it seems to mean some one has abandoned this baby. Oh, it’s so sweet—a regular doll! Dinah, hurry with that warm milk!”
“Yes’m! Ah’s a hurryin, as fast as Ah kin! Oh, fo’ de landest sakes! A honey lamb baby! Oh, mah goodness! who done left it yeah?”
“That’s what we don’t know, Dinah. Nan found it on the steps.”