That young un there never lets up squalling , day or night . I 've just got that I take no notice of it . '' Rilla tiptoed gingerly over to the cradle and more gingerly still pulled down the dirty blanket . She had no intention of touching the baby -- she had no `` knack with kids '' either . She saw an ugly midget with a red , distorted little face , rolled up in a piece of dingy old flannel . She had never seen an uglier baby . Yet a feeling of pity for the desolate , orphaned mite which had `` come out of the everywhere '' into such a dubious `` here '' , took sudden possession of her . `` What is going to become of the baby ? '' she asked . `` Lord knows , '' said Mrs. Conover candidly . `` Min worried awful over that before she died . She kept on a-saying ` Oh , what will become of my pore baby ' till it really got on my nerves . I ai n't a-going to trouble myself with it , I can tell yez . I brung up a boy that my sister left and he skinned out as soon as he got to be some good and wo n't give me a mite o ' help in my old age , ungrateful whelp as he is . I told Min it 'd have to be sent to an orphan asylum till we 'd see if Jim ever came back to look after it . Would yez believe it , she did n't relish the idee . But that 's the long and short of it . '' `` But who will look after it until it can be taken to the asylum ? '' persisted Rilla . Somehow the baby 's fate worried her .
`` S'pose I 'll have XXXXX , '' grunted Mrs. Conover .
after before if in of on that till to until