"What is it?" she gasped, rising quickly to her feet.

"Don't know," was the reply. "It's alive, anyway, whatever it is, for
it's beginning to wriggle. Here, take it."

But Mrs. Royal shrank back, and raised her hands as if to protect
herself.

"It won't hurt you, dear. What are you afraid of?"

"But it's alive, you say. It might not be safe to have it in the
house. Where did it come from?"

Before a reply could be given, the bundle gave a vigorous twist, while
a muffled squeal came from beneath the clothes, which almost caused the
parson to drop his burden upon the floor. But that sound stirred Mrs.
Royal to immediate action. No longer did she hesitate, but stepping
forward relieved her husband of his charge.

"It is a baby!" she cried, at the same time drawing aside the shawl and
exposing the chubby face of a child nestling within. A pair of bright
blue eyes looked up into hers, and a queer little chuckle of delight
came from the small rose-bud of a mouth. So pleased was it to have its
face uncovered, that it performed the rest of the job itself, and by
means of a few strenuous kicks disengaged its feet from their covering
and stuck them straight up into the air.

"Bless its little heart!" was Mrs. Royal's motherly comment. "It is
going to make itself at home, anyway."