gh chair, giving him one of the sticks of sweet out of the
jar to keep him quiet; and went upstairs to his own room. He came down
again in about a quarter of an hour, and Ruth proceeded to serve his
dinner, for Easton was still absent.

'If I was you, I wouldn't wait for Will,' said Slyme, 'he may not come
for another hour or two. It's after two o'clock now, and I'm sure you
must be hungry.'

'I suppose I may as well,' replied Ruth, hesitatingly. 'He'll most
likely get some bread and cheese at the "Cricketers", same as he did
last Saturday.'

'Almost sure to,' responded Slyme.

The baby had had his face washed while Slyme was upstairs. Directly he
saw his mother eating he threw away the sugar-stick and began to cry,
holding out his arms to her. She had to take him on her lap whilst she
ate her dinner, and feed him with pieces from her plate.

Slyme talked all the time, principally about the child. He was very
fond of children, he said, and always got on well with them, but he had
really never known such an intelligent child--for his age--as Freddie.
His fellow-workmen would have been astonished had they been present to
hear him talking about the shape of the baby's head. They would have
been astonished at the amount of knowledge he appeared to possess of
the science of Phrenology. Ruth, at any rate, thought he was very
clever.

After a time the child began to grow fretful and refused to eat; when
his mother gave him a fresh piece of sugar-stick out of the jar he
threw it peevishly on the floor and began to whimper, rubbing his face
against his mother's bosom and pulling at her dress with his hands.
When Slyme first came Ruth had made a practice of withdrawing from the
room if he happened to be present when she wanted to nurse the child,
but lately she had been less sensitive. She was sitting with her back
to the window and she partly covered the baby's face with a light shawl
that she wore. By the time they finished dinner the child had dozed
off to sleep. Slyme got up from his chair and stood with his back to
the fire, looking down at them; presently he spoke, referring, of
course, to the baby:

'He's very like you, isn't he?'

'Yes,' replied Ruth. 'Everyone says he takes after me.'

Slyme moved a little closer, bending down to look at the slumbering
infant.

'You know, at first I thought he was a girl,' he continued after a
pause. 'He seems almost too pretty for a boy, doesn't he?'

Ruth smi