The woman in charge of Augusta stood up, and exhibited the quaint, weird-eyed infant.
At sight of her an extraordinary change came over the face of good Mrs. Brown. She whispered eagerly and excitedly to the barrister engaged for the defence, pointing at Augusta, and accenting her remarks by beating her closed fist on the edge of the dock.
In a moment he was on his feet.
"Your worship! On behalf of my client, I beg to say she disclaims all responsibility for the child now produced in court. She knows nothing about it, and has never seen it in her life before. She desires me to say that the baby committed to her care by this lady was evidently under a month old. I appeal to every mother in court if that child is not between two and three years of age at the least."
Great excitement followed this statement.
"Is that the child you gave her, or is it not?" asked the magistrate.
"Yes, my lord—your worship, I mean—that is the child, my sister, I'd know her anywhere. Her eyes are the same, and she always had that little wart on her forehead—but she looks bigger, certainly."
