“He is my husband, and the children’s father.”
“Jake would not be likely to steal a child, would he?” asked Tod, in a hesitating manner, for him.
She looked up, as if not understanding. “Steal a child, master! What for?”
“I don’t know,” said Tod. “I thought perhaps he had done it, and had brought the child here.”
Another comical stare from the woman. “We couldn’t feed these of ours; what should we do with another?”
“Well: Jake called at our house to sell his skewers; and, directly afterwards, we missed my little sister. I have been hunting for her ever since.”
“Was the house far from here!”
“A few miles.”
“Then he have sunk down of weakness on his way, and can’t get back.”
Putting her head on her knees, she began to sob and moan. The child—the living one—began to bawl; one couldn’t call it anything else; and pulled at the green rushes.