d into twelve rills, would not have been
exhausted in twenty-four, and her soul, forecasting its sorrow, yearned
after that nonentity Number Thirteen. She pictured to herself the
hapless strangeling borne away from her bosom by those strong arms,
and--in fact she sobbed so that Ginx grew ashamed, and sought to comfort
her by the suggestion that she could not have any more. But she knew
better.

VI.--The Antagonism of Law and Necessity.

In eighteen months, notwithstanding resolves, menaces, and prophecies,
GINX'S BABY was born. The mother hid the impending event long, from
the father. When he came to know it, he fixed his determination by much
thought and a little extra drinking. He argued thus: "He wouldn't go on
the parish. He couldn't keep another youngster to save his life. He had
never taken charity and never would. There was nothink to do with it but
drown it!" Female friends of Mrs. Ginx bruited his intentions about the
neighborhood, so that her "time" was watched for with interest. At last
it came. One afternoon Ginx, lounging home, saw signs of excitement
around his door in Rosemary Street. A knot of women and children awaited
his coming. Passing through them he soon learned what had happened.
Poor Mrs. Ginx! Without staying to think or argue, he took up the little
stranger and bore it from the room----

"O, O, O, Ginx! Ginx!!"

She would have risen, but a strong power called weakness pulled her
back.

* * * * *

The man meanwhile had reached the street.

"Here he comes! There's the baby! He's going to do it, sure enough!"
shrieked the women. The children stood agape. He stopped to consider. It
is very well to talk about drowning your baby, but to do it you need two
things, water and opportunity. Vauxhall Bridge was the nearest way to
the former, and towards it Ginx turned.

"Stop him!"

"Murder!"

"Take the child from him!"

The crowd grew larger, and impeded the man's progress. Some of his
fellow-workmen stood by regarding the fun.

"Leave us aloan, naabors," shouted Ginx; "this is my own baby, and I'll
do wot I likes with it. I kent keep it; an' if I've got anythin' I kent
keep, it's best to get rid of it, ain't it? This child's goin' over
Wauxhall Bridge."

But the women clung to his arms and coattails.

"Hallo! What's all this about?" said a sharp, strong man, well-dressed,
and in good condition, coming up to the crowd; "another foundling!
Confound the place, the very stones pr