“Oh, Mr. Watson remembered your birthday! How nice!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “I didn’t think he knew it.”
“Nor did I,” said Mr. Bobbsey, as he got ready to pry off the box cover.
“Watson! Watson!” murmured Bert, thinking hard. “Oh, yes!” he cried. “That’s the name of the father and mother of Baby May, whom we found on our doorstep. That box came from Baby May!”
“Yes, or from her parents,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
As he moved the box, in order to get a better chance to pry off the cover, again there came from inside it a strange wailing cry.
“Oh, Daddy! Open it—quick!” cried Freddie. “Baby May must be inside that box. Her father and mother sent her back to you for a birthday present! Open it—quick—and take Baby May out!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “Nobody would put a baby in a box like that and send it by express!”
The queer noises sounded again, and, really, they seemed to be such cries as a baby might make.
“Open the box! Open the box!” cried Nan, much excited, and Mr. Bobbsey hurriedly began using the hammer and screw driver while the twins and their mother leaned eagerly forward.