"But this isn't, Totty! It isn't my baby! I don't know who it is." "Mildred, you're crazy! Of course this is Totty. These are her blue kid shoes. And this is her coat and cap." "I don't care if they are! It isn't Totty at all. Oh, where is my baby?" Mrs. Harrison was on the verge of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard was genuinely alarmed. "Behave yourself, Mildred!" she said, sternly. "Gather yourself together. Here, sip this glass of water." "I'm perfectly sensible," said Mrs. Harrison, quieting down a little, as she noticed her friend's consternation. "But I tell you, Helen, this is _not_ my baby. Doesn't a mother know her own child? Totty's hair is a little longer, and her eyes are a little larger. I don't know who this baby is, but she isn't mine." "I believe you're right," said Mrs. Maynard, looking more closely at the screaming baby. "There, there!" she said, taking the frightened little one in her own arms. "Ma-ma!" cried the baby. "Hear her voice!" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison. "That isn't the way my Totty talks. Oh, Helen, what has happened?" "I don't know," said Mrs. Maynard, her face very white. "It doesn't seem possible that any marauder should have slipped into the house and put this child in Totty's place. Why, it was only about a half-hour ago that the girls brought Totty in. Mildred, are you _sure_ this isn't Totty?" "Am I sure! Yes, I am. Wouldn't you know your own children from strangers? Helen, a dreadful crime has been committed. Somehow this baby has been substituted for mine. Oh, Totty, where _are_ you now?" "What shall I do, Mildred? Shall I call up Mr. Maynard on the telephone, or shall I ring up the police station?" "Yes, call the police. It's dreadful, I know, but how else can we find Totty?" Meantime Sarah appeared with a cup of warm milk. The baby stretched out eager little hands, and Mrs. Maynard carefully held the cup for her to drink. "She's a nice little thing," observed that lady. "See how prettily she behaves." "Helen, you'll drive me crazy. I don't care how she behaves, she isn't Totty. Why, that isn't even Totty's little dress. So you see the kidnapper did change her shoes and wraps, but not her frock." Mrs. Harrison showed signs of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard was at her wits' end what to do. "I suppose I'd better call the police," she said. "Here, Mildred, you hold this baby." Mrs. Harrison gingerly took the baby that wasn't hers, and looked like a martyr as she held her. But comforted by the warm food, the baby pleasantly cuddled up in Mrs. Harrison's arms and went to sleep. Mrs. Maynard, greatly puzzled, went to the telephone, but before she touched it there was a furious peal at the front-door bell. The moment the door was opened, in rushed a pretty, but frantic and very angry, little lady, carrying a child. "Where's my baby?" she demanded, as she fairly stamped her foot at Mrs. Maynard. "That's my child!" she went on, turning to Mrs. Harrison. "What are you doing with her?"