In the soup tureen there was an uncanny silence.

In one way she was thankful the baby did not cry but she wished it would give an occasional squeak to prove that it was alive.

Suppose it were smothered! Rilla dared not unwrap it to see, lest the wind, which was now blowing a hurricane, should "take its breath," whatever dreadful thing that might be.

She was a thankful girl when at last she reached harbour at Ingleside.
Rilla carried the soup tureen to the kitchen, and set it on the table under Susan's eyes.

Susan looked into the tureen and for once in her life was so completely floored that she had not a word to say.
"What in the world is this ?" asked the doctor, coming in.
Rilla poured out her story.