pick it up, the faint wailing cry was repeated, and Uncle Bobo nearly let the bundle fall.
"It's a child--it's an infant!" he exclaimed. "Where's it dropped from? Here, Susan!" he called to his faithful old servant, "here's a Christmas-box for you; look alive!"
Susan, who had appeared with a light, groped through the various articles in the shop, and received the bundle from her master's hand.
"Dear life, Mr. Boyd, what are you going to do with it then?"
"Can't say," was the answer, as Mr. Boyd rolled into the parlour, where a bright fire was burning and the kettle singing on the hob. "Unpack the parcel, Sue, and let's have a look."
Susan untied many knots and unrolled fold after fold of the long scarf-shawl of black and white check in which the child was wrapped: and then out came, like a butterfly out of a chrysalis, a little dainty girl of about two years old, who, looking up at Mr. Boyd, said, "Dad-da!"
There was no sign of ill-usage about the child. She was neat
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