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“It is a very extraordinary case,” I said. “Children are often stolen, but it is seldom we hear of one being taken and another left in its place, especially when the children are of different ages, and totally unlike.”

“That’s so,” said Pomona. “At first, I thought that Corinne had been changed off for a princess, or something like that, but nobody couldn’t make anybody believe that my big, black-haired baby was this white-an’-yaller thing.”

“Can’t you find any mark on her clothes,” asked Euphemia, “by which you could discover her parentage? If there are no initials, perhaps you can find a coronet or a coat of arms.”

“No,” said Pomona, “there aint nothin’. I’ve looked careful. But there’s great comfort to think that Corinne’s well stamped.”

“Stamped!” we exclaimed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Why, you see,” answered Pomona, “when Jone an’ I was goin’ to bring our baby over here among so many million people, we thought there might be danger of its gittin’ lost or mislaid, though we never really believed any such thing would happen, or we wouldn’t have come. An’ so we agreed to mark her, for I’ve often read about babies bein’ stole an’ kept two or three years, and when found bein’ so changed their own mothers didn’t know ’em. Jone said we’d better tattoo Corinne, for them marks would always be there, but I wouldn’t agree to have the little creature’s skin stuck with needles, not even after Jone said we might give her chloryform; so we agreed to stamp initials on her with Perkins’s Indelible Dab. It is intended to mark sheep, but it don’t hurt, and it don’t never come off. We put the letters on the back of her heels, where they wouldn’t show, for she’s never to go barefoot, an’ where they’d be easy got at if we wanted to find ’em. We put R.G. on one heel for the name of the place, and J.P. on the other heel for Jonas an’ me. If, twenty years from now,” said Pomona, her tears welling out afresh, “I should see a young woman with eyes like Corinne’s, an’ that I felt was her, a-walking up to the bridal altar, with all the white flowers, an’ the floatin’ veils, an’ the crowds in the church, an’ the music playin’, an’ the minister all ready, I’d jist jerk that young woman into the vestry-room, an’ have off her shoes an’ stockin’s in no time. An’ if she had R.G. on one heel, an’ J.P. on the other, that bridegroom could go home alone.”

We confidently assured Pomona that with such means of identification, and the united action of ourselves and the police, the child would surely be found, and we accompanied her to her lodgings, which were now in a house not far from our own.

When the nurse reached home with the little carriage it was almost dark, and, snatching up the child, she ran to the nursery without meeting any one. The child felt heavy, but she was in such a hurry she scarcely noticed that. She put it upon the bed, and then lighting the gas she unwrapped the afghan, in which the little creature was now almost entirely enveloped. When she saw the face, and the black hair, from which the cap had fallen off, she was nearly frightened to death, but, fortunately for herself, she did not scream. She was rather a stupid woman, with but few ideas, but she could not fail to see that some one had taken her charge, and put this child in its place. Her first impulse was to run back to the gardens, but she felt certain that her baby had been carried off; and, besides, she could not, without discovery, leave the child here or take it with her; and while she stood in dumb horror, her mistress sent for her. The lady was just going out to dinner, and told the nurse that, as they were all to start for the Continent by the tidal train, which left at ten o’clock that night, she must be ready with the baby, well wrapped up for the journey. The half-stupefied woman had no words nor courage with which to declare, at this moment, the true state of the case. She said nothing, and went back to the nursery and sat there in dumb consternation, and without sense enough to make a plan of any kind. The strange child soon awoke and began to cry, and then the nurse mechanically fed it, and it went to sleep again. When the summons came to her to prepare for the journey, in cowardly haste she wrapped the baby, so carefully covering its head that she scarcely gave it a chance to breathe; and she and the lady’s waiting-maid were sent in a cab to the Victoria Station. The lady was travelling with a party of friends, and the nurse and the waiting-maid were placed in the adjoining compartment of the railway-carriage. On the six hours’ channel passage from Newhaven to Dieppe the lady was extremely sick, and reached France in such a condition that she had to be almost carried on shore. It had been her intention to stop a few days at this fashionable watering-place, but she declared that she must go straight on to Paris, where she could be properly attended to, and, moreover, that she never wanted to see the sea again. When she had been placed in the train for Paris she sent for the nurse, and feebly asked how the baby was, and if it had been seasick. On being told that it was all right, and had not shown a sign of illness, she expressed her gratification, and lay back among her rugs.