'Well, the baby is not born yet, but I hope soon will be.'
'Oh, I beg pardon,' said Kate, casting a rapid glance in the direction of the lady's waist.
The baby clothes were kept in a box under the counter, and in a few moments
Kate reappeared with a bundle of flannels.
'You will find these of the very best quality; will you feel the warmth of this, ma'am?' she said, spreading out something that looked like two large towels.
The lady seemed satisfied with the quality, but from her manner of examining the strings Kate judged she was at her first confinement, and with short phrases and quick movements proceeded to explain how the infant was to be laid in the middle, and how the tapes were to be tied across.
'And you will want a hood and cloak? We have some very nice ones at two pounds ten; but perhaps you would not like to give so much?'
Without replying to this question, the lady asked to see the articles referred to, and then, beneath the men's shirts that hung just above their heads, the two women talked with many genuine airs of mystery and covert subtlety. The lady spoke of her fears, of how much she wished the next fortnight was over, of her husband, of how long she had been married. She was Mrs. Wood, the stationer's wife in Piccadilly. Kate said she knew her customer's shop perfectly, and assumed a sad expression when in her turn she was asked if she had any children. On her replying in the negative, Mrs. Wood said, with a sigh of foreboding, that people were possibly just as well without them.
It was at this moment that Mr. Lennox entered, and Kate tried to sweep away and to hide up the things that were on the counter. Mrs. Wood was mildly embarrassed, and with a movement of retiring she attempted to resume the conversation.
'Very well, Mrs. Ede,' she said; 'I quite agree with you—and I'll call again about those pocket-handkerchiefs.'
But Kate, in her anxiety not to lose a chance of doing a bit of business, foolishly replied: