"Oh, don't it eat; don't it eat!" cried the boys. "The poor little thing is almost starved," said the mother. "Missus, how d'ye reckin it came on the porch?" Dinah asked. "I cannot think who would have left it," answered Mrs. Tompkins. "That is not a very young baby," said Mr. Tompkins, watching the little creature eat greedily from the spoon, for Dinah had now taken it and was feeding it. "No, marster, not berry, 'cause it's got two or free teef," said the nurse. "Spect it's 'bout six months old." As soon as the little stranger had been fed, Dinah wrapped it in a warm blanket and laid it on Mrs. Tompkin's bed, where it soon fell asleep, showing it was exhausted as well as hungry. Dinah then led the two boys to the room to wash and dress them. "Strange, strange!" said Mrs. Tompkins, beginning to dress. "Who can the little thing belong to, and what are we to do with it?" "Keep it, I suppose," said Mr. Tompkins; and, stumbling over a boot-jack, he exclaimed in the same breath, "Oh, confound it!" "What, the baby?" "No, the boot-jack. I've stubbed my toe on it." "We have no right to take upon ourselves the rearing of other people's children," said Mrs. Tompkins, paying no attention to her husband's trifling injury. "But it's our Christian duty to see that the little thing does not die of cold and hunger," said Mr. Tompkins, caressing his aching toe. Soon the boys came in, ready for breakfast, and inquired for the baby; when told that it was sleeping, they wanted to see it asleep, and stole on tiptoe to the bed, where the wearied little thing lay, and nothing would satisfy them until they were permitted to touch the pale, pinched, tear-stained cheek with their fresh, warm lips. The breakfast bell rang, and they went down to the dining-room, where awaiting them was a breakfast such as only Aunt Susan could prepare. They took their places at the table, while a negro girl stood behind each, to wait upon them and to drive away flies with long brushes of peacock feathers. The boys were so much excited by the advent of the strange baby that they could scarcely keep quiet long enough to eat. "I am going to draw it on my wagon," said Oleah. "I'm going to let it ride my pony," said Abner. "Don't think too much of the baby yet, for some one may come and claim it," said their mother. "They shan't have it, shall they, papa?" cried Oleah. "No, it is our baby now." "And we are going to keep it, ain't we, Aunt Susan!" he asked the cook, as she entered the dining-room. "Yes, bress yo' little heart; dat baby am yours," said Aunt Susan. "It's a Christmas gift, ain't it, Maggie?" he asked the waiter behind him. Oleah was evidently determined to array everyone's opinion against his mother's supposition. "Yes, I reckin it am," the negro girl answered with a grin. "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Abner. "Why, Oleah, this ain't Christmas." Seeing his mistake, Oleah joined in the laugh, but soon commenced again.