Anne Caspar stared stonily.
"Who's little Alice?" she asked.
"Her love-child," answered Alf. "Like your grand-child as you might say—only illegit o course."
His mother breathed heavily.
"Is Ern the father?" she asked at last in a sour flat voice.
"Not him!" jeered Alf. "She's a rich man's cast-off, Ruth is. Made it worth Ern's while. That's where it was. See, cash is cash in this world."
Anne laid back her ears as she rummaged among her memories,
"I thought you told me," she began slowly, "as Ern—"
"Never!" cried Alf. "Ern had nothin to do with it, who-ever had."
"Who was the father?" asked Anne, not above a little feminine curiosity.