"Why?" I asked.

"Why! That they may discover the parents, to be sure."

"Wouldn't it be as hard a matter to prove the parentage, as it would be
easy to suspect it?" I asked. "And just think what it would be to give the
baby to a woman who not only did not want her, but who was not her mother.
But if her own mother came to claim her now, I don't say I would refuse
her, but I should think twice about giving her up after she had once
abandoned her for a whole night in the open air. In fact I don't want the
parents."

"But you don't want the child."

"How do you know that?" I returned--rather rudely, I am afraid, for I am
easily annoyed at anything that seems to me heartless--about children
especially.

"O! of course, if you want to have an orphan asylum of your own, no one has
a right to interfere. But you ought to consider other people."

"That is just what I thought I was doing," I answered; but he went on
without heeding my reply--

"We shall all be having babies left at our doors, and some of us are not so
fond of them as you are. Remember, you are your brother's keeper."

"And my sister's too," I answered. "And if the question lies between
keeping a big, burly brother like you, and a tiny, wee sister like that, I
venture to choose for myself."