"Has it come in?" I said in surprise. "Then it must have gone out again. It noticed you weren't here."
"I believe you've got it."
"I swear I haven't, Betty. I think the lady in the corner knows something about it."
Betty rushed across to her and began to crawl under her chair. I nervously rehearsed a few sentences to myself.
"It is not my child, madam. I found it here. Surely you can see that there is no likeness between us? If we keep quite still perhaps it will go away."
"I've got it," cried Betty, and the old lady woke up with a jerk.
"What are you doing, child?" she said crossly.
"Your little girl, madam," I began—but Betty's ball bit me on the head again before I could develop my theme.
"Your little girl, sir," began the old lady at the same moment.
"I said it first," I murmured. "Betty," I went on aloud, "what is your name, my child?"