Suppose I was lying in a basket in a big, black room, without one speck of light, and nobody within miles of me, for all I could see or know.

Suppose there wasn't a human being anywhere who loved me--for a father who had never seen me couldn't love me very much, especially when he had never written a word to or about me.

Wouldn't I cry, too?
Wouldn't I feel just so lonely and forsaken and frightened that I'd have to cry?
Rilla hopped out.

She picked Jims out of his basket and took him into her own bed.

His hands were cold, poor mite.