Hobbling over the floor, helping himself along by means of a hand and a foot, waving his other hand in the air, chuckling and choking in babyish delight, the tiny creature made his way to Captain White's feet, and attempted to climb up his legs. The man tossed him to the ceiling, laughing meanwhile at Derrice, who sat in pretended dejection at the baby's desertion of her. Captain White's twinkling eyes danced over every person in the room. He possessed no organ of reverence. Miss Gastonguay and her niece were no more to him than the humblest persons in the town, and, coolly tripping away to the hall, he engaged in a long conversation with the baby, of which such highly intelligible scraps as "Linktum, toddyum, widdy wee Bootses--" occasionally floated to the people left behind. "Why didn't you want that man to come?" asked Miss Gastonguay, curiously. "Because," said Derrice, "we become so riotous when he is here. He is like a magician among the children, and they get so noisy and I--sometimes I forget to be as dignified as a married woman ought to be." "Where did that baby come from?" said Miss Gastonguay. "I haven't got on the track of this latest one." "Nobody knows. Captain White brought him here. His past history does not matter, Mrs. Negus says, for he will be well looked after now." "Good for you, Cousin Derrice," said Captain White, returning unexpectedly. "Some women adore a mystery. They fork it over and look under and over it, and smell about it to see if they can't catch a whiff of something more than they ought to catch. Now to reward you, I'll tell who he is. I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance down on one of the Boston wharves where he was about to attend his own drowning, and was grinning like a Chessy cat over it. 'What are you going to do with that baby?' I asked his mother. She was drunk as an owl, and told me she was about to throw him to the fishes. No one would give her work with that great baby hanging on her, and she was too proud to starve him. 'How much will you sell him for?' I asked. She steadied herself against a cask, and swore that she wouldn't sell her own flesh and blood. 'Then give him to me,' I said, 'and I'll take care of him.' The mother spirit cropped up in the drunken witch. She rolled aboard the schooner, asked a few questions as to my character from the men around, then, without a word, put the child in my arms." Miss Gastonguay was listening in grim interest. Derrice had her face buried in the child's pink neck, and even Chelda exhibited signs of sympathy. "Go on," said Miss Gastonguay, after a time. "What did you do for the mother?" "Nothing much," he said, sheepishly. "Only gave her address to some folks who look after such like,--and of course I'll let 'em know how the child gets on." "Oh, oh, oh, Captain White!" and an avalanche of children descended upon him. "You're going to stay to supper,--you're going to stay to supper,--what fun!"