"Because, Squire Erliston, I am resolved to keep the child," said Mrs. Gower, firmly.
"What! what! WHAT!" exclaimed the squire, speechless with mingled rage and astonishment at the audacious reply.
"Yes, sir," reiterated Mrs. Gower, resolutely. "I consider that child sent to me by Heaven, and I cannot part with it."
"Fudge! stuff! fiddlesticks! Sent to you by heaven, indeed! S'pose heaven ever dropped a young one on the beach? Likely story!"
"Well, I consider it the same thing. Some one left it on the beach, and heaven destined me to save it."
"Nonsense! no such thing! 'twas that stupid rascal, Jupe, making you get out. I'll horsewhip him within an inch of his life for it!" roared the old man, in a passion.
"I beg you will do no such thing, sir. It was no fault of Jupiter's. If you insist on its quitting the house, there remains but one course for me."
"Confound it, ma'am! you'd make a saint swear, as Solomon says. Pray tell me what is that course you speak of?"
"I must leave with it."
"What?" exclaimed the squire, perfectly aghast with amazement.