I 'd like to buy that of him too. My front porch 's awful old 'n'
shaky 'n' I 'll need a good porch to wheel baby on. He c'd take my
porch in part payment. It's bein' so old 'n' shaky wouldn't matter to
him I don't suppose, for I 'll bet a dollar he 'll never let no other
wife o' his sit out on no porch o' his, not 'ntil after he's dead 'n'
buried anyway; 'n' as for sittin' on a porch himself, well, all is I
know 't if it was me it 'd scorch my rockers."

"What time do you think 't you '11 get back?" asked Mrs. Lathrop.

"I ain't sure. 'F I should get real interested huntin' orphans, I
might stay until it was too dark to see 'em good. I can't tell nothin'
about it, though. You 'd better watch for the light in the kitchen,
'n' when you see it burnin' I wish 't you'd come right over."

Mrs. Lathrop agreed to this arrangement, and Miss Clegg went home to
get ready for town.

* * * * *

She returned about five o'clock, and the mere general aspect of her
approaching figure betokened some doing or doings so well worthy of
neighborly interest that Mrs. Lathrop left her bread in the oven and
flew to satisfy her curiosity.

She found her friend warming her feet by the kitchen stove, and one
look at her radiant countenance sufficed.

"You found a baby!"