“Land, no,” replied Mrs. Glynn. “Didn’t she always go there? It isn’t that. It is the most unheard-of thing she had done; but no woman, unless she had plenty of money to bring it up, would have done it.” “To bring what up?” asked Abby, sharply. Her eyes looked as small and bright as needles. Julia regarded her with intense satisfaction. “What do women generally bring up?” said she. “I don’t know of anything they bring up, whether they have it or not, except a baby,” retorted Abby, sharply. Julia wilted a little; but her sister, Mrs. Glynn, was not perturbed. She launched her thunderbolt of news at once, aware that the critical moment had come, when the quarry of suspicion had left the bushes. “She has adopted a baby,” said she, and paused like a woman who had fired a gun, half scared herself and shrinking from the report. Ethel seconded her mother. “Yes,” said she, “Miss Eudora has adopted a baby, and she has a baby-carriage, and she wheels it out any time she takes a notion.” Ethel’s speech was of the nature of an after-climax. The baby-carriage weakened the situation. The other women seized upon the idea of the carriage to cover their surprise and prevent too much gloating on the part of Mrs. Glynn, Ethel, and Julia. “Is it a new carriage?” inquired Mrs. Lee. “No, it looks like one that came over in the ark,” retorted Mrs. Glynn. Then she repeated: “She has adopted a baby,” but this time there was no effect of an explosion. However, the treble chorus rose high, “Where did she get the baby? Was it a boy or a girl? Why did she adopt it? Did it cry much?” and other queries, none of which Mrs. Glynn, Ethel, and Julia could answer very decidedly except the last. They all announced that the adopted baby was never heard to cry at all. “Must be a very good child,” said Abby. “Must be a very healthy child,” said Mrs. Lee, who had had experience with crying babies. “Well, she has it, anyhow,” said Mrs. Glynn. Right upon the announcement came proof. The beautiful door of the old colonial mansion opposite was thrown open, and clumsy and cautious motion was evident. Presently a tall, slender woman came down the path between the box borders, pushing a baby-carriage. It was undoubtedly a very old carriage. It must have dated back to the fifties, if not the forties. It was made of wood, with a leather buggy-top, and was evidently very heavy. Abby eyed it shrewdly. “If I am not mistaken,” said she, “that is the very carriage Eudora herself was wheeled around in when she was a baby. I am almost sure I have seen that identical carriage before. When we were girls I used to go to the Yates house sometimes. Of course, it was always very formal, a little tea-party for Eudora, with her mother on hand, but I feel sure that I saw that carriage there one of those times.