Mr. Grigsby stepped back into the house for a candle; his sister followed him with another. He pulled aside the cover of the cart. Mrs. McLaren held the light above his head, and leaned forward with him to look in.
When Chaney had thought to thrust her hand into her feather bed, it had encountered something that moved and moaned. That something now sat upright and stretched out two naked arms encrusted with dried blood. A voice nobody there would have known cried out: "Father! father! don't let that man get me! He wants to kill me."
Such was Mrs. McLaren's introduction to the namesake of whom she would some day be proud.