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A Rough Shaking by George MacDonald
page 160 of 412 (38%)

The woman looked, and her heart was drawn to the boy who stood gazing
at her with his whole solemn, pathetic yet strong face--with his wide,
clear eyes, his decided nose, large and straight, his rather long,
fine mouth, trembling with eager anxiety, and his confident chin. She
saw hunger in his grimy cheeks; she saw that his manners were those of
a gentleman, and his clothes poor enough for any tramp, though
evidently not made for a tramp. She would have concluded him escaped
from cruel guardians, for she was a reader of _The Family Herald_; but
that would not account for the baby! The baby did not tally!

"How old's the baby?" she asked.

"I don't know, ma'am; she only came to us last night."

"Who brought her?"

She imagined the boy a simpleton, and expected one of such answers as
inconvenient questions in natural history receive from nurses.

"I don't know, ma'am. I took her out of the water-but."

The thing grew bewildering.

"Who put her there?"

"I don't know, ma'am."

"Whose baby is she, then?"

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