A surge of concern and bewilderment coursed through Harold. Who would leave such vulnerable little ones here, exposed to the elements? Kneeling down, he gently picked up the babies, their soft cries tugging at his heartstrings. Harold, a widower with no children of his own, felt a protective instinct awaken within him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he carried the infants back to his farmhouse and set about making them comfortable. The modest kitchen soon filled with the aroma of warm milk and the gentle hum of a radio playing old country tunes. As the babies settled into a makeshift crib Harold had fashioned from an old wooden crate, a sense of calm enveloped the room.