alk of parting with her. He
hoped sincerely she would fail in winning the lady's pity.

But no, there they were both coming to meet him, the tall lady in deep
black, and little eager wistful Flossy.

'This is the lady what cried,' she said to Peter. 'She have come out to
see our baby. Show her our baby, Peter.'

In solemn gloomy silence Peter unfolded a morsel of the tartan shawl
which covered the baby's face.

'Let me have her in my arms, please,' said the lady.

She took the baby tenderly, peeped once again at its small wee face, felt
a sudden glow coming back into empty arms and more empty heart, and then
turned again to the children.

{She took the baby tenderly: p47.jpg}

'I must be mad to do such a thing,' she said. 'Two little waifs in the
street come and offer me a baby, and I don't refuse it! There, baby,'
for Dickory began to cry again, 'there, baby--hush, sweet--hush, dear
little baby, hush.'

This lady's voice had quite a new tone for Dickory, a sweeter tone even
than Peter's or Flossy's. She stopped crying at once.

'Our baby takes to you, ma'am,' said Flossy, in a voice of thrilling
interest.

Peter, very pale, and still silent, drew a step nearer.

'Well, children,' said the lady, 'I have made up my mind. I'll take this
baby home for the night. My husband will think me mad--anyone in their
senses would think me mad, but I'm nearly wild with mother-hunger, and
that little mite there,' pointing to Flossy, 'guessed it, and she brought
me the baby, and I say God bless her for it, whether she's a ragamuffin
or not. Yes, I have made up my mind. I shall take the baby home for to-
night at least. In the morning I shall make inquiries, but for to-night
the baby is mine.'

'Half milk, half water in her bottle,' said Peter in a very grave
reproachful voice. 'Half milk, half water, and a little sugar, and a
pinch of salt, and Dickory likes her feet kept werry warm. Come home,
Flossy.'

'And we are not ragamuffins, please lady,' said Flossy. 'Our name is
Franklin, and we live in 24 Montfiore Square. We lets lodgings, please
lady, and it was Mr Martin what turned so crusty about baby.'

'Tell your mother I will come and see her to-morrow,' said the lady. 'You
have a mother, I suppose?'

'Yes, oh yes. She wanted to send the baby to the workhouse.'

'I don't think that will be necessary. My name is Ross. Tell your
mother to expect me to-morrow.'

CHAPTER III.

It is one