The man obeyed, and the lady was left standing on the pathway, considering what she should do next.
Mechanically she turned down a side street, and noticed at the door of a clean-looking house a chubby-faced, bright young woman, nursing a baby. Summoning up all her courage, Miss Semaphore approached her, and with unconscious diplomacy remarked,
“What a very fine child! Is it yours?”
“Yes ’m,” replied the beaming mother. “My third ’e is, just six months old, bless ’is little ’eart; but ’e ain’t looking well now, not ’e, ’e’s teething, and that do so pull a hinfant down.”
“He is a beauty,” said Miss Prudence. “Should you be disposed to undertake the care of another child—a—a little younger, if you were well paid for it?”
“No ’m, that I shouldn’t,” said the young woman promptly. “My own three is enough for me, an’ my old man I know he wouldn’t like it, nohow.”
“Could you recommend any careful, respectable woman who would?”
“I can’t say as I do. Ain’t the child’s parents living, or is it yer own?”
“Oh, no!” said Miss Prudence, blushing to the eyes, “the child is an orphan.”
“Poor little thing. Sorry I carn’t ’elp you, ’m, but I don’t know a suitable party.”