"Bless _me_ if I can tell you, David," she said. "She's the most old-fashioned little piece of goods I ever came across. But such a nice little lady too, and that taken with our baby! She won't tell me her name nor nothing," and then she went on to describe to David, Hoodie's arrival and all she had said. David scratched his head, as, half hidden in the doorway, where Hoodie had not yet caught sight of him, he glanced at the child, still deeply interested in her "tea." "It's my opinion," he said solemnly, as if what he was about to say was something that could not possibly have struck any one else; "it's my opinion as her nurse or some one has been cross to her and she's runned away." "But what shall we do?" said Mrs. Liz, a little anxiously. "How shall we find out where she belongs to?" "Oh, easy enough," said David. "She's but a baby. And even if she wouldn't tell, you may be sure they'll soon be sending after her. I could take her home on my way to Greenoaks if I knew where it was. Can't be far off--maybe it's one of the clergyman's children down by Springley." "They've none so little," said Mrs. David. "But there's Squire Caryll's--I heard say there's a sight o' little ones there. 'Twill be there." "Likely enough," said David. "But I'd like a cup o' tea, Liz, if the young lady'll excuse my being rather rough like." Lizzie laughed. "She's but a baby," she said; and so David came forward and sat down at the table. Hoodie looked up from her tea and stopped half way through a "bicsit" to take a good stare at the new comer. "Who is zou, please?" she said at last. [Illustration: "Who is zou, please?"] David looked rather awkward. It was somewhat embarrassing to be calmly challenged in this way at his own table, poor man, by a mite of a creature like this! He relieved his feelings by a glance at his wife and a faint whistle. "Well, to be sure!" he exclaimed. Lizzie understood the small questioner better. "Why, Missy," she said, "'Tis David. He's baby's father, and this is his house, and he's very pleased to see you here." Hoodie looked again at David; this time he seemed to find more favour in her eyes. "At the grandmother's cottage there wouldn't have been no Davids," she remarked. "His hands is rather dirty, isn't they, little baby's mother?" This was too much for David--he went off into a roar. Hoodie looked up doubtfully--was he laughing at _her_?--in her opinion, an unpardonable crime--but David's funny, good-natured face gained the day, and after a moment's hesitation Hoodie joined in the fun and laughed too, though at what she certainly didn't know. Friendly feeling thus established, David thought it time to begin his inquiries. "Hope you've enjoyed your tea, Miss," he said. "You must a been hungry after such a long walk. Round by Springley way was it?" "_What_ did you say?" said Hoodie, opening her eyes. David's tone and accent were puzzling to her.