Tales from Many Sources | Page 6

That they would never be found.
That it would probably be the means of the poor child's ruin, body and
soul, if they were.
That the master of the neighbouring workhouse bore a bad character.
That a child costs nothing to keep--where cows are kept too--for years.

That just at the age when a boy begins to eat dreadfully and wear out
his clothes, he is very useful on a farm (though not for these reasons).
That Thomasina had taken to him.
That there need be no nonsense about it, as he could be brought up in
his proper station in life in the kitchen and the farm yard.
That tramps have souls.
That he would be taught to say his prayers.
Miss Betty said hers, and went to bed; but all through that midsummer
night the baby kept her awake, or flaunted his yellow robe and crimson
toadstool through her dreams.
The morning brought no change in Miss Betty's views, but she felt
doubtful as to how her sister would receive them. Would she regard
them as foolish and unpractical, and her respect for Miss Betty's
opinion be lessened thenceforward?
The fear was needless. Miss Kitty was romantic and imaginative. She
had carried the baby through his boyhood about the Lingborough fields
whilst she was dressing; and he was attending her own funeral in the
capacity of an attached and faithful servant, in black livery with
worsted frogs, as she sprinkled salt on her buttered toast at breakfast,
when she was startled from this affecting daydream by Miss Betty's
voice.
"Dear sister Kitty, I wish to consult you as to our plans in the event of
those wicked people who deserted the baby not being found."
The little ladies resolved that not an inkling of their benevolent scheme
must be betrayed to the lawyer. But they dissembled awkwardly, and
the tone in which they spoke of the tramp-baby roused the lawyer's
quick suspicions. He had a real respect for the little ladies, and was
kindly anxious to save them from their own indiscretion.

"My dear ladies," said he, "I do hope your benevolence--may I say your
romantic benevolence?--of disposition is not tempting you to adopt this
gipsy waif?"
"I hope we know what is due to ourselves, and to the estate--small, as it
is--sir," said Miss Betty, "as well as to Providence, too well to attempt
to raise any child, however handsome, from that station of life in which
he was born."
"Bless me, madam! I never dreamed you would adopt a beggar child as
your heir; but I hope you mean to send it to the workhouse, if the gipsy
tramps it belongs to are not to be found?"
"We have not made up our minds, sir, as to the course we propose to
pursue," said Miss Betty, with outward dignity proportioned to her
inward doubts.
"My dear ladies," said the lawyer anxiously, "let me implore you not to
be rash. To adopt a child in the most favorable circumstances is the
greatest of risks. But if your benevolence will take that line, pray adopt
some little boy out of one of your tenants' families. Even your teaching
will not make him brilliant, as he is likely to inherit the minimum of
intellectual capacity; but he will learn his catechism, probably grow up
respectable, and possibly grateful, since his forefathers have (so Miss
Kitty assures me) had all these virtues for generations. But this baby is
the child of a heathen, barbarous, and wandering race. The propensities
of the vagabonds who have deserted him are in every drop of his blood.
All the parsons in the diocese won't make a Christian of him, and when
(after anxieties I shudder to foresee) you flatter yourself that he is
civilized, he will run away and leave his shoes and stockings behind
him."
"He has a soul to be saved, if he is a gipsy," said Miss Kitty,
hysterically.
"The soul, my dear Miss Kitty "--began the lawyer, facing round upon
her.

"Don't say anything dreadful about the soul, sir, I beg," said Miss Betty,
firmly. And then she added in a conciliatory tone, "Won't you look at
the little fellow, sir? I have no doubt his relations are shocking people;
but when you see his innocent little face and his beautiful eyes, I think
you'll say yourself that if he were a duke's son he couldn't be a finer
child."
"My experience of babies is so limited, Miss Betty," said the lawyer,
"that really--if you'll excuse me--but I can quite imagine him. I have
before now been tempted myself to adopt stray--puppies, when I have
seen them in the round, soft, innocent, bright-eyed stage. And when
they have grown up in the hands of more credulous friends into lanky,
ill-conditioned, misconducted curs, I