Miss Kitty uttered a cry, and at the same moment Miss Betty, who was farther down the road, did the same, and these were followed by a third, which sounded like a mocking echo of both. And then the sisters rushed together. "A most miraculous discovery!" gasped Miss Betty. "You must have passed the very spot before," cried Miss Kitty. "Though I'm sure, sister, what to do with it now we have found it I don't know," said Miss Betty, rubbing her nose, as she was wont to do when puzzled. "It shall be taken better care of for the future, sister Betty," said Miss Kitty penitently. "Though how it got out I can't think now." "Why, bless my soul! you don't suppose it got there of itself, sister?" snapped Miss Betty. "How it did get there is another matter." "I felt pretty confident about it, for my own part," smiled the parson as he joined them. "Do you mean to say, sir, that you knew it was there?" asked Miss Betty, solemnly. "I didn't know the precise spot, my dear madam, but----" "You didn't see it, sir, I hope?" said Miss Betty. "Bless me, my dear madam, I found it!" cried the parson. Miss Betty bridled and bit her lip. "I never contradict a clergyman, sir," said she, "but I can only say that if you did see it, it was not like your usual humanity to leave it lying there." I've got it in my hand, ma'am!" "Why He's got it in his hand, sister!" cried the parson and Miss Kitty in one breath. Miss Betty was too much puzzled to be polite. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "The diamond, oh dear, oh dear! _The diamond!_" cried Miss Kitty. "But what are you talking about, sister?" "_The baby_" said Miss Betty. WHAT MISS BETTY FOUND. It was found under a broom-bush. Miss Betty was poking her nose near the bank that bordered the wood, in her hunt for the diamond, when she caught sight of a mass of yellow of a deeper tint than the mass of broom-blossom above it, and this was the baby. This vivid color, less opaque than "deep chrome" and a shade more orange, seems to have a peculiar attraction for wandering tribes. Gipsies use it, and it is a favorite color with Indian squaws. To the last dirty rag it is effective, whether it flutters near a tent on Bagshot Heath, or in some wigwam doorway makes a point of brightness against the grey shadows of the pine forest. A large kerchief of this, wound about its body, was the baby's only robe, but he seemed quite comfortable in it when Miss Betty found him, sleeping on a pillow of deep hair moss, his little brown fists closed as fast as his eyes, and a crimson toadstool grasped in one of them.