and through the glass of the door-pane, a face, a woman's face
looking into the fire-lit room with pleading eyes. What was it
she bore in her arms, the little bundle that she held tight to her
breast to shield it from the falling snow? Can you guess, reader?
Try three guesses and see. Right you are. That's what it was.

The farmer's wife went hastily to the door.

"Lord's mercy!" she cried, "what are you doing out on such a night?
Come in, child, to the fire!"

The woman entered, carrying the little bundle with her, and looking
with wide eyes (they were at least an inch and a half across) at
Enderby and his wife. Anna could see that there was no wedding-ring
on her hand.

"Your name?" said the farmer's wife.

"My name is Caroline," the girl whispered. The rest was lost in
the low tones of her voice. "I want shelter," she paused, "I want
you to take the child."

Anna took the baby and laid it carefully on the top shelf of the
cupboard, then she hastened to bring a glass of water and a
dough-nut, and set it before the half-frozen girl.

"Eat," she said, "and warm yourself."

John rose from his seat.