aid of being
seen in company of William's wife and Jenny, for men about town are
uncharitable, and, despite the explanation I had ready, might have
charged me with pitying William. As a matter of fact, William was
sending his wife into Surrey to stay with an old nurse of mine, and I
was driving her down because my horses needed an outing. Besides, I was
going that way, at any rate.

I had arranged that the girl Jenny, who was wearing an outrageous
bonnet, should accompany us, because, knowing the greed of her class, I
feared she might blackmail me at the club.

William joined us in the suburbs, bringing the baby with him, as I had
foreseen they would all be occupied with it, and to save me the trouble
of conversing with them. Mrs. Hicking I found too pale and fragile for
a workingman's wife, and I formed a mean opinion of her intelligence
from her pride in the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created
quite a vulgar scene when it was brought to her, though she had given
me her word not to do so; what irritated me, even more than her tears,
being her ill-bred apology that she "had been 'feared baby wouldn't
know her again." I would have told her they didn't know anyone for
years had I not been afraid of the girl Jenny, who dandled the infant
on her knees and talked to it as if it understood. She kept me on
tenterhooks by asking it offensive questions: such as, "Oo know who
give me that bonnet?" and answering them herself, "It was the pretty
gentleman there," and several times I had to affect sleep because she
announced, "Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty gentleman."

Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered even
more when we reached our destination. As we drove through the village
the girl Jenny uttered shrieks of delight at the sight of flowers
growing up the cottage walls, and declared they were "just like
music-'all without the drink license." As my horses required a rest, I
was forced to abandon my intention of dropping these persons at their
lodgings and returning to town at once, and I could not go to the inn
lest I should meet inquisitive acquaintances. Disagreeable
circumstances, therefore, compelled me to take tea with a waiter's
family--close to a window, too, through which I could see the girl
Jenny talking excitedly to villagers, and telling them, I felt certain,
that I had been good to William. I had a desire to go out and put
myself right with those people.

William's long