Part 1 (2/2)
Gizzard shook his head skeptically.
”Well, sir, when he went out on his porch to get his paper this morning, what do you s'pose he found there in a basket?”
”Apples?”
”I should say _not_! He found a little girl baby, as red as a beet!”
Gizzard was inclined to belittle this announcement. ”That's nuthin',” he muttered; ”the folks who live 'cross the street from us had twins last week--”
”But you don't understand!” cried Sube impatiently. ”This was a _founding_!”
”A what?” asked Gizzard with a blank stare.
”A founding. It didn't have any mother or father, or an'thing 'xcept a 'nomynous letter.”
”A _what_ letter?” demanded Gizzard.
”A 'nomynous letter,” Sube explained loftily. ”A letter without any name signed to it but 'A Friend' or 'Taxpayer' or some'pm like that.”
”What'd the letter say in it?”
”Oh, nuthin' 'xcept would ol' Whiting bring up the kid, and a verse from the Bible about sufferin' little children. And, Giz--” Sube lowered his voice to a strained whisper--”I know who the mother is!”
”What of it?” grunted Gizzard. ”Don't I know who the mother of them twins is?”
”Huh!” snorted Sube. ”I guess you don't know it's against the law to leave founding babies around like that! Why, every officer in this town is tryin' to find out who the mother is, and _I'm_ the only one who knows!”
That gave the matter an entirely different complexion. And Gizzard's eyes were bright as he asked in an eager whisper, ”Who is it?”
”Figger it out for yourself,” responded Sube gravely. ”Who do you know that's got a face as red as a beet? That's the first thing. And don't girl babies always look like their mothers? That's the second thing. And who sat there in Sunday School a couple of Sundays ago and said that verse about sufferin' little children more'n a dozen times?”
Gizzard gasped. ”Her!” he cried. ”Aw, you're way off! _She_ ain't got any children!”
Sube smiled tolerantly. ”It was her, all right, and I can prove it,” he a.s.serted; and then, perceiving that Gizzard was again beginning to sniff questioningly at the atmosphere, Sube proceeded to introduce his proof.
Of course, the greater part of this talk was mere subterfuge to gain time; he had already told Gizzard all he knew. And the situation was becoming desperate. With grownups any old explanation would have gone.
But with Gizzard it was different; the explanation of that odor must sound true. So Sube vapored on hoping wildly that something would occur to him.
He kept on talking about the foundling and her putative mother simply because he couldn't think
[Ill.u.s.tration]
of anything else. And he had just reached the point where he was explaining that a little detective work would be required to bring the cruel mother to justice, when a great light broke over him. He saw a very simple way out of his predicament; he could tell Gizzard that he was raising the mustache for detective purposes, and Gizzard would never suspect that Nancy Guilford was at the bottom of it.
For a moment he paused, his eyes squinted for serious effect, then said in a tone of the strictest confidence, ”Giz, if a feller's goin' to do good detective work, he's got to have a good disguise. And _I'm_ goin'
to have a blinger!” He moved closer to Gizzard as he asked, ”Don't you smell some'pm?”
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