“Ain’t you green！ It’s his missis as wants him to go. Do youthink she could sleep till she knowed how the kid was？”
“But he does not go into the house at West Kensington？”
“Is he soft？ Course he don’t go in， fear of taking theinfection to the kid. They just holds the kid up at the windowto him， so as he can have a good look. Then he comes homeand tells his missis. He sits foot of the bed and tells.”
“And that takes place every night？ He can’t have much totell.”
“He has just.”
“He can only say whether the child is well or ill.”
“My！ He tells what a difference there is in the kid since hesee"d him last.”
“There can be no difference！”
“Go ‘long！ Ain’t a kid always growing？ Haven’t Mr.
Hicking to tell how the hair is getting darker， and heaps ofthings beside？”
“Such as what？”
“Like whether he larfed， and if he has her nose， and how ashe knowed him. He tells her them things more"n once.”
“And all this time he is sitting at the foot of the bed？”
“‘Cept when he holds her hand.”
“But when does he get to bed himself？”
“He don’t get much. He tells her as he has a sleep at theclub.”
“He cannot say that.”
“Hain’t I heard him？ But he do go to his bed a bit， and thenthey both lies quiet， her pretending she is sleeping so as he cansleep， and him feared to sleep case he shouldn’t wake up togive her the bottle stuff.”
“What does the doctor say about her？”
“He’s a good one， the doctor. Sometimes he says she wouldget better if she could see the kid through the window.”
“Nonsense！”
“And if she was took to the country.”
“Then why does not William take her？”
“My！ you are green！ And if she drank port wines.”
“Doesn’t she？”
“No； but William he tells her about the gentlemen drinkingthem.”
On the tenth day after my conversation with this unattractivechild I was in my brougham， with the windows up， and I sat back，a paper before my face lest any one should look in. NaturallyI was afraid of being seen in company of William’s wife andJenny， for men about town are uncharitable， and， despite theexplanation I had ready， might have charged me with pityingWilliam. As a matter of fact， William was sending his wife intoSurrey to stay with an old nurse of mine， and I was drivingher down because my horses needed an outing. Besides， I wasgoing that way， at any rate.
I had arranged that the girl Jenny， who was wearing anoutrageous bonnet， should accompany us， because， knowingthe greed of her class， I feared she might blackmail me at theclub.
William joined us in the suburbs， bringing the baby withhim， as I had foreseen they would all be occupied with it， andto save me the trouble of conversing with them. Mrs. HickingI found too pale and fragile for a workingman’s wife， and Iformed a mean opinion of her intelligence from her pride inthe baby， which was a very ordinary one. She created quitea vulgar scene when it was brought to her， though she hadgiven me her word not to do so； what irritated me， even morethan her tears， being her ill-bred apology that she “had been‘feared baby wouldn’t know her again.” I would have toldher they didn’t know anyone for years had I not been afraidof the girl Jenny， who dandled the infant on her knees andtalked to it as if it understood. She kept me on tenterhooksby asking it offensive questions： such as， “Oo know whogive me that bonnet？” and answering them herself， “It wasthe pretty gentleman there，” and several times I had to affectsleep because she announced， “Kiddy wants to kiss the prettygentleman.”
