Suppose it were smothered! Rilla dared not unwrap it to see, lest
the wind, which was now blowing a hurricane, should "take its breath,"
whatever dreadful thing that might be. She was a thankful girl when at
last she reached harbour at Ingleside.
Rilla carried the soup tureen to the kitchen, and set it on the table
under Susan's eyes. Susan looked into the tureen and for once in her
life was so completely floored that she had not a word to say.
"What in the world is this?" asked the doctor, coming in.
Rilla poured out her story. "I just had to bring it, father," she
concluded. "I couldn't leave it there."
"What are you going to do with it?" asked the doctor coolly.
Rilla hadn't exactly expected this kind of question.
"We--we can keep it here for awhile--can't we--until something can be
arranged?" she stammered confusedly.
Dr. Blythe walked up and down the kitchen for a moment or two while the
baby stared at the white walls of the soup tureen and Susan showed signs
of returning animation.
Presently the doctor confronted Rilla.
"A young baby means a great deal of additional work and trouble in a
household, Rilla. Nan and Di are leaving for Redmond next week and
neither your mother nor Susan is able to assume so much extra care under
present conditions. If you want to keep that baby here you must attend
to it yourself."
"Me!" Rilla was dismayed into being ungrammatical.
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