"Ain't you comin' 'ome?" pleaded the man.
"Ain't you goin' away?" the woman answered. "What's the good o' pesterin'? Can't you 'ear what I tell you? Do you wanter send me mad—fussin' an' pesterin'?
"There's a clock; one, now, an' the gentleman said nine."
"That was 'arpas' twelve struck then," observed the stout man.
"And the gentleman said nine," sighed the girl.
"Think e'll 'ave 'is mind back be the mornin', 'Erb? 'E never knowed nothin' when we left; never knowed nothin' when I carried 'im out from 'ome. Did you see 'ow fast 'is teeth was? Did—— The gentleman said, 'Don't worry.' Must be a fool. What did you wanter move the lamp for?"
"Table was so full, an' the cloth was draggin'. Anyone might 'a' stepped on it. I never meant no 'arm, ole Emma."
"Bin all right if the door was shut. Might be nursin' 'im now, 'Erb, in yere overcoat, 'stead of 'im—— Did you see ow drored out 'is fingers was when the gentleman come to look? 'Ow long before nine? Think they'd let us in before? It's all through that door bein' open. That curtain it—— Gawd's Truth, 'Erb, it was the noo curtain what I put up yesterday. It was my curtain. I done it, I killed my baby."
"'E ain't killed," asserted the fat man. "Be as right as I am in a twel'month."
"I put up that curtain to show off; that's all I put it up for. And it blew on to the lamp, an' it—it—Gawd blind me, I've killed my baby."