Mrs.Raspus came for her basket, claiming it was the only one she had in which to "tote" the washing for the men.
After these annoying but enlivening incidents Anderson was permitted to recover from his daze and to throw off symptoms of nervous prostration.
Tinkletown resumed its tranquil attitude and the checker games began to thrive once more.

Little Rosalie was a week older than when she came, but it was five weeks before anything happened to disturb the even tenor of the foster-father's way.

He had worked diligently in the effort to discover the parents of the baby, but without result.

Two or three exasperated husbands in Tinkletown had threatened to blow his brains out if he persisted in questioning their wives in his insinuating manner, and one of the kitchen girls at the village inn threw a dishpan at him on the occasion of his third visit of inquiry.

A colored woman in the employ of the Baptist minister denied that Rosalie was her child, but when he insisted, agreed with fine sarcasm to "go over an' have a look at it," after his assurance that it was perfectly white.
"Eva, I've investigated the case thoroughly," he said at last, "an' there is no solution to the mystery.