'Heavens!' Vida fell back against the pillow. 'What a handful!'
'Oh, no, 'm. My cousin says they're nice children.' It would have been funny if it hadn't somehow been pathetic to see how instantly she was on the defensive. '"Healthy and hearty," my cousin says, all but the little one. She hardly thinks they'll raise him.'
'Well, I wish your market gardener had confined himself to raising onions and cabbages. If he hadn't those children I don't believe you'd dream of——'
'Well, of course not, miss. But it seems like those children need some one to look after them more than—more than——'
'Than I do? That ought to be true.'
'One of 'em is little more than a baby.' The wooden woman offered it as an apology.
'Take the tray,' said Vida.
From the look on her face you would say she knew she had lost the faithfullest of servants, and that five little children somewhere in a market garden had won, if not a mother, at least a doughty champion.