“Well, she is the angel, then, whoever she is,” Mrs. Royal insisted, “and perhaps she will come for the baby to-morrow.”

“Oh, do you think so, Martha?” and there was a note of anxiety in the parson’s voice.  “How nice it would be to keep it.”

“Why do you say ‘it,’ Daniel?  Why don’t you say ’her’?”

“I never knew before that it was a ‘her,’” and the parson chuckled as he stroked his clean-shaven chin with the fingers of his right hand.

“You didn’t?” and his wife looked her surprise.  “Why, any one who has the least knowledge of babies can tell a boy from a girl at the first glance.  There is always a marked difference in the way they behave.”

“Ah, is that so, dear?”

“Certainly.  A boy as a rule is cranky when he wakes.  But do you notice how good natured this baby is? and how she lies so quietly in my lap, looking wonderingly into the fire?  And notice how delicately she is formed; how perfect her face; how slight her neck, and how tiny her arms and hands.  Oh, it is always easy for a woman to tell which is which.”

“What shall we call her, Martha?” and Parson Dan drew up his chair and sat down.

“I have been thinking of that, Daniel, but have not decided yet.  I always liked Deborah; it is such a good strong name.”

“It is a good old name, anyway,” was the somewhat reluctant assent.  “But she is sure to get ‘Debbie,’ or ‘Deb,’ which I dislike very much.”

“Oh, that all depends upon what a child is called at home, Daniel.  If we begin at once to call her Deborah, people will do the same.”

“Very well, Martha, if you wish to call her Deborah, I have no objection.  But——­”

Here the parson paused, leaned over and picked up a small piece of white paper lying upon the floor.  He glanced carelessly at it at first, but as he read the words written thereon his eyes opened wide.  He looked at his wife, who was intently watching the baby, and an amused expression broke over his face.  Then came the inevitable chuckle.

“What is it now, Daniel?” his wife questioned.  “That is the fourth time you’ve chuckled already to-night.  It seems to take very little to amuse you.”

“Suppose the baby isn’t a girl after all, dear?” the parson replied, ignoring his wife’s sarcastic remark.

“Not a girl!  What do you mean?”

“Suppose she should be a boy, after all?”

“The idea is ridiculous, Daniel.  Don’t you suppose I know a girl from a boy?”

“Very well, then, read that,” and the clergyman handed her the slip of paper.

“Please take care of Rodney.  I will come for him some day.  The Lord will reward you even if I can’t.

“His mother.”

As Mrs. Royal read this brief note, a peculiar expression overspread her face.  She uttered no word, but her head drooped lower over the baby and she remained very still.  Her husband at once realising how she felt, laid his hand upon hers.