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The Foundling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 10

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to be something on the front step. The dogs wouldn’t let anything dangerous sneak up on the house – so who’d left it? There hadn’t been time enough for someone to run to the house since the dogs began raising a fuss, let alone drop something and run.

All the same, he would have noticed a parcel if it were there before. Perhaps he was tired from the prolonged trip, and there was precious little light still outside, but he knew his own home. He wasn’t blind.

 

 

 

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