“Of course!” said Miss Danforth. “We will wait for him.”
The minutes passed. He did not come back.
“Where did you say he went?” asked the old barrister—or lawyer, as you call them.
I shook my head and turned the baby onto my other arm. In a second more I heard his voice on the porch.
I went out to him.
His face showed his nervousness again. His fingers trembled as he took the baby from me.
“Go! Look!” he whispered. “I cannot find it!”
This was my chance! I went. The grass below the window had grown long and was matted down; people on the street were watching me and I did not dare to drop on my knees for fear some well-meaning and unwelcome assistance might come for the search. Nevertheless I pushed my toes, I thought, over every inch of the ground below the window. I doubled and redoubled the space. At last the Danforths’ cook raised the screen.
“What are ye doing?” said she. “Come in. The baby’s food is here already.”