go.

"Hold on, parson," the captain cried, as he took a quick step forward.
"D'ye mean the wee lad which was left at yer door t'other night?"

"Why, yes," the clergyman replied, in surprise, as he turned around.
"How did you hear about him?"

"H'm, ye can't keep anything in this place a secret fer twenty-four
hours. Trust the women to find out, especially about a baby, ha, ha!"

"Well, what of it?" and the parson looked keenly into the captain's
eyes.

"Ob, nothin', except that if the wee chap has to go without his milk
because I have Brindle, it makes all the difference in the world, see?"

"And you will let me have the cow without any fuss?"

"Sure. I'll bring her right over, and milk her fer ye, too. And, see
here, parson, I didn't mean to offend ye. I know that I am a queer
cranky cuss, but I never meant to keep Brindle. I only wanted to have
a little fun, that's all. You've gone up a peg in my estimation since
I heard that ye'd taken in that poor little waif. Shake on it, and let
bygones be bygones."

So there in the middle of the road on this peaceful morning, the two
neighbours clasped hands, and as Parson Dan walked slowly back to his
house there was a sweet peace in his heart, and his eyes were a little
misty as he opened the door.