“Goodness sakes, alive!” exclaimed Sarah, springing to her feet, with a startled air, her wild eyes fastened upon the infant.
“Hush!” said Miss Porter authoritatively. “Has any one been here since I left home?”
“Not a soul,” said the girl, but with still gaping eyes and mouth.
“Good!” returned the mistress in a satisfied tone; “and now, Sarah, you are to remember that a baby girl was born here on Monday night, October 2. No one save you and I and Mrs. Brewster know of the fact as yet; but I shall have it recorded to-morrow morning, when a letter will also be mailed to Mr. Brewster, announcing that he has a fine little daughter.”
“But——” began Sarah, looking dazed and troubled.
“There are no ‘buts,’ Sarah,” curtly interposed Miss Porter; “the last forty-eight hours must become a blank; you are to know nothing, except that on the second of this month my sister gave birth to a beautiful little girl, and that both mother and child are doing well. I am sure I can trust you,” concluded the woman, looking the girl squarely in the eyes.
“Yes, marm,” was the meek response, and Miss Porter knew that torture would never elicit the wilful betrayal of her secret after that promise was given.
“That is right,” she said briskly, the stern lines of her face relaxing again; “and now you may take the baby while I prepare some milk for her.”
The next day but one there appeared in the Boston Transcript the following paragraph:
“X. Y. Z.—The golden key has unlocked a responsive heart.”