"Him girl," returned the woman, with a sudden flash of white teeth between parted crimson lips. "Name Rosa Marie. Yes, him ma petite daughtaire. You like the looks on him, hey?"
"Oh, so much," cried Mabel, impulsively. "Oh, would you do me a favor?"
"A favaire," repeated the woman, with a puzzled glance. "W'at ees a favaire?"
"Oh, would you lend your baby to me? Would you let me have her to play with for—— Oh, for all day?"
"Here?" queried the mother, doubtfully.
"No, not here. In my own home—up there, on the hill. Could I keep her until six o'clock? I just adore babies, and she's so fat and cunning! Oh, please, please! I'd be just awfully obliged."
A look of understanding flashed suddenly between the man and the woman; but Mabel, stooping to make friends with little Rosa Marie, did not observe it.
"Your fodder 'ave nice house, plainty food, plainty money?" queried the woman, running a speculative eye over Mabel's plain but substantial wardrobe.
"Oh yes," returned Mabel, thoughtlessly. "And besides I have a playhouse. That is, it isn't exactly mine, but I just about live in it with three other girls, and that's where I want to take Rosa Marie. I'll be awfully careful of her if you'll only let me take her. Oh, do you think she'll come with me? Couldn't you tell her to?"