The entire Crow family watched him in stupefaction until he disappeared down the lane that led to Hapgood’s grove.  It was then, and not until then, that Anderson Crow took a breath.

“Good Lord, Eva, what do you mean?” he gasped.

“Mean?” she almost shrieked.  “Anderson Crow, didn’t you recognise that feller?  He ain’t no more detective than you er me.  He’s the self-same tramp that you put in the calaboose last week, and the week before, too.  I thought I’d seen his ugly face before.  He’s ”

“Great jumpin’ geeswax!” roared the town marshal.  “I recollect him now.  He’s the one that said he’d been exposed to smallpox an’ wanted to be kept where it was warm all winter.  Well, I’ll be I’ll be ”

“Don’t say it, pa.  He said it fer you when he clumb over that barb-wire fence out there,” cried Edna gleefully.

Several days of anxiety and energy followed this interesting episode.  In that time two tramps attempted to obtain food and shelter at Crow’s home, one on the plea that he was the father of the unfortunate child, the other as an officer for the Foundlings’ Home at Boggs City.  Three babies were left on the doorstep two in one night their fond mothers confessing fessing by letters that they appreciated Anderson’s well-known charitable inclinations and implored him to care for their offspring as if they were his own.  The harassed marshal experienced some difficulty in forcing the mothers to take back their children.

In each instance he was reviled by the estimable ladies, all of whom accused him of being utterly heartless.  Mrs. Crow came to his rescue and told the disappointed mothers that the scalding water was ready for application if they did not take their baskets of babies away on short order.  It may be well for the reputation of Tinkletown to mention that one of the donors was Mrs. Raspus, a negro washerwoman who did work for the “dagoes” engaged in building the railroad hard by; another was the wife of Antonio Galli, a member of the grading gang, and the third was Mrs. Pool, the widow of a fisherman who had recently drowned himself in drink.

It is quite possible that Anderson might have had the three infants on his hands permanently had not the mothers been so eager to know their fate.  They appeared in person early the next morning to see if the babies had frozen to death on the doorstep.  Mrs. Pool even went so far as to fetch some extra baby clothes which she had neglected to drop with her male.  Mrs. Raspus came for her basket, claiming it was the only one she had in which to “tote” the washing for the men.

After these annoying but enlivening incidents Anderson was permitted to recover from his daze and to throw off symptoms of nervous prostration.  Tinkletown resumed its tranquil attitude and the checker games began to thrive once more.  Little Rosalie was a week older than when she came, but it was five weeks before anything happened to disturb the even tenor of the foster-father’s way.  He had worked diligently in the effort to discover the parents of the baby, but without result.  Two or three exasperated husbands in Tinkletown had threatened to blow his brains out if he persisted in questioning their wives in his insinuating manner, and one of the kitchen girls at the village inn threw a dishpan at him on the occasion of his third visit of inquiry.  A colored woman in the employ of the Baptist minister denied that Rosalie was her child, but when he insisted, agreed with fine sarcasm to “go over an’ have a look at it,” after his assurance that it was perfectly white.

“Eva, I’ve investigated the case thoroughly,” he said at last, “an’ there is no solution to the mystery.  The only thing I c’n deduce is that the child is here an’ we’ll have to take keer of her.  Now, I wonder if that woman really meant it when she said we’d have a thousand dollars at the end of each year.  Doggone, I wish the year was up, jest to see.”

“We’ll have to wait, Anderson, that’s all,” said Mrs. Crow.  “I love the baby so it can’t matter much.  I’m glad you’re through investigatin’.  It’s been most tryin’ to me.  Half the women in town don’t speak to me.”

It was at the end of Rosalie’s fifth week as a member of the family that something happened.  Late one night when Anderson opened the front door to put out the cat a heavily veiled woman mounted the steps and accosted him.  In some trepidation he drew back and would have closed the door but for her eager remonstrance.

“I must see you, Mr. Crow,” she cried in a low, agitated voice.

“Who are you?” he demanded.  She was dressed entirely in black.

“I came to see you about the baby.”

“That won’t do, madam.  There’s been three tramps here to hornswoggle us an’ I ”

“I must see her, Mr. Crow,” pleaded the stranger, and he was struck by the richness of her voice.

“Mighty queer, it seems to me,” he muttered hesitatingly.  “Are you any kin to it?”

“I am very much interested.”

“By giminy, I believe you’re the one who left her here,” cried the detective.  “Are you a typewriter?”

“I’ll answer your questions if you’ll allow me to step inside.  It is very cold out here.”

Anderson Crow stood aside and the tall, black figure entered the hall.  He led her to the warm sitting-room and gave her a chair before the “base-burner.”

“Here, Mr. Crow, is an envelope containing two hundred and fifty dollars.  That proves my good faith.  I cannot tell you who I am nor what relation I bear to the baby.  I am quite fully aware that you will not undertake to detain me, for it is not an easy matter to earn a thousand dollars a year in this part of the world.  I am going abroad next week and do not expect to return for a long, long time.  Try as I would, I could not go without seeing the child.  I will not keep you out of bed ten minutes, and you and your wife may be present while I hold Rosalie in my arms.  I know that she is in good hands, and I have no intention of taking her away.  Please call Mrs. Crow.”

Anderson was too amazed to act at once.  He began to flounder interrogatively, but the visitor abruptly checked him.

“You are wasting time, Mr. Crow, in attempting to question my authority or identity.  No one need know that I have made this visit.  You are perfectly secure in the promise to have a thousand dollars a year; why should you hesitate?  As long as she lives with you the money is yours.  I am advancing the amount you now hold in order that her immediate wants may be provided for.  You are not required to keep an account of the money paid to you.  There are means of ascertaining at once whether she is being well cared for and educated by you, and if it becomes apparent that you are not doing your duty, she shall be removed from your custody.  From time to time you may expect written instructions from from one who loves her.”

“I jest want to ast if you live in Tinkletown?” Anderson managed to say.

“I do not,” she replied emphatically.

“Well, then, lift your veil.  If you don’t live here I sha’n’t know you.”

“I prefer to keep my face covered, Mr. Crow; believe me and trust me.  Please let me see her.”  The plea was so earnest that Anderson’s heart gave a great thump of understanding.

“By ginger, you are her mother!” he gasped.  Mrs. Crow came in at this juncture, and she was much quicker at grasping the situation than her husband.  It was in her mind to openly denounce the woman for her heartlessness, but her natural thriftiness interposed.  She would do nothing that might remove the golden spoon from the family mouth.

The trio stole upstairs and into the warm bedchamber.  There, with Anderson Crow and his wife looking on from a remote corner of the room, the tall woman in black knelt beside the crib that had housed a generation of Crows.  The sleeping Rosalie did not know of the soft kisses that swept her little cheek.  She did not feel the tears that fell when the visitor lifted her veil, nor did she hear the whisperings that rose to the woman’s lips.

“That is all,” murmured the mysterious stranger at last, dropping her veil as she arose.  She staggered as she started for the door, but recovered herself instantly.  Without a word she left the room, the Crows following her down the stairs in silence.  At the bottom she paused, and then extended her hands to the old couple.  Her voice faltered as she spoke.

“Let me clasp your hands and let me tell you that my love and my prayers are forever for you and for that little one up there.  Thank you.  I know you will be good to her.  She is well born.  Her blood is as good as the best.  Above all things, Mrs. Crow, she is not illegitimate.  You may easily suspect that her parents are wealthy or they could not pay so well for her care.  Some day the mystery surrounding her will be cleared.  It may not be for many years.  I can safely say that she will be left in your care for twenty years at least.  Some day you will know why it is that Rosalie is not supposed to exist.  God bless you.”

She was gone before they could utter a word.  They watched her walk swiftly into the darkness; a few minutes later the sound of carriage wheels suddenly broke upon the air.  Anderson Crow and his wife stood over the “base-burner,” and there were tears in their thoughtful eyes.

“She said twenty years, Eva.  Let’s see, this is 1883.  What would that make it?”

“About 1903 or 1904, Anderson.”

“Well, I guess we c’n wait if other people can,” mused he.  Then they went slowly upstairs and to bed.