Old Mrs. Billy Crawford , she was here when it was born and she washed it and rolled it up in that flannel , and Jen she 's tended it a bit since . The critter is warm enough . This weather would melt a brass monkey . '' Rilla was silent , looking down at the crying baby . She had never encountered any of the tragedies of life before and this one smote her to the core of her heart . The thought of the poor mother going down into the valley of the shadow alone , fretting about her baby , with no one near but this abominable old woman , hurt her terribly . If she had only come a little sooner ! Yet what could she have done -- what could she do now ? She did n't know , but she must do something . She hated babies -- but she simply could not go away and leave that poor little creature with Mrs. Conover -- who was applying herself again to her black bottle and would probably be helplessly drunk before anybody came . `` I ca n't stay , '' thought Rilla . `` Mr. Crawford said I must be home by supper-time because he wanted the pony this evening himself . Oh , what can I do ? '' She made a sudden , desperate , impulsive resolution . `` I 'll take the baby home with me , '' she said . `` Can I ? '' `` Sure , if yez wants to , '' said Mrs. Conover amiably . `` I hai n't any objection . Take it and welcome . '' `` I -- I ca n't carry it , '' said Rilla .
`` I have XXXXX drive the horse and I 'd be afraid I 'd drop it .
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