“Let’s take off his flannel shirt! There may be something there,” ventured Mrs. Stewart.
In less than a minute, the pins were out and the woven shirt of Merino was removed, but no further information rewarded the anxious seekers. So the shirt was carefully replaced and the boy’s nightie slipped over his head again.
“It’s all hand-made of fine linen,” remarked Mrs. Latimer, as she felt of the hem at the bottom.
“And one can see that he is no slum child,” added Mrs. Evans.
“Who can he be? and why should anyone want to leave him?” were the perplexing questions Polly asked of the others.
They all shook their heads and wondered. But the boy had no use for such condolences; he crawled over the divan and when he found not what he was in search of, he screwed up his dimpled face and began a lusty call.
Anne instantly took him up and began to chirp to him. He smiled a cheerful thanks and showed eight little front teeth. That brought all his new friends to his feet—metaphorically speaking.
“Isn’t he a dear!” declared Mrs. Stewart to no one in particular.
“Yes, but we have to advertise him at once. It may be that a villain kidnapped him and ran away with him just to get a reward. He may have been seen, or chased by the police, and then dropped the baby in our vestibule,” said Mrs. Latimer.
Anne laughed. “Which analysis shows that one of us married a lawyer—Mrs. Latimer gives us good advice.”