`` Go and put on dry clothes at once . '' `` The child must be looked to first , '' she said firmly . `` See how chilled and exhausted he is , the pretty dear . Light a fire quickly , David , while I get dry things for him . '' I let her have her way . She brought out the clothes our own child had worn and dressed the waif in them , rubbing his chilled limbs , brushing his wet hair , laughing over him , mothering him . She seemed like her old self . For my own part , I was bewildered . All the questions I had not asked before came crowding to my mind how . Whose child was this ? Whence had he come ? What was the meaning of it all ? He was a pretty baby , fair and plump and rosy . When he was dried and fed , he fell asleep in Josie 's arms . She hung over him in a passion of delight . It was with difficulty I persuaded her to leave him long enough to change her wet clothes . She never asked whose he might be or from where he might have come . He had been sent to her from the sea ; the dream-child had led her to him ; that was what she believed , and I dared not throw any doubt on that belief . She slept that night with the baby on her arm , and in her sleep her face was the face of a girl in her youth , untroubled and unworn . I expected that the morrow would bring some one seeking the baby .
I had come to the conclusion that he must belong to the `` Cove '' across the harbor , where the fishing hamlet was ; and all day , while Josie laughed and played XXXXX him , I waited and listened for the footsteps of those who would come seeking him .
For at from of on over that to while with