"Do you expect me to bring up the child to wherever the lady lives, and pay my 'bus fare, all out of five shillings a week? It can't be done!" Esther did not answer. "You ain't married, of course?" Mrs. Spires said suddenly.
"No, I ain't; what about that?"
"Oh, nothing; there is so many of you, that's all. You can't lay yer 'and on the father and get a bit out of 'im?"
The conversation paused. Esther felt strangely undecided. She looked round suspiciously, and noticing the look the woman said—
"Your baby will be well looked after 'ere; a nice warm kitchen, and I've no other babies for the moment; them children don't give no trouble, they plays in the area. You had better let me have the child; you won't do better than 'ere."
Esther promised to think it over and let her know to-morrow. It took her many omnibuses to get home, and it was quite dark when she pushed the door to. The first thing that caught her ear was her child crying. "What is the matter?" she cried, hurrying down the passage.
"Oh, is that you? You have been away a time. The poor child is that hungry he has been crying this hour or more. If I'd 'ad a bottle I'd 'ave given him a little milk."
"Hungry, is he? Then he shall have plenty soon. It is nearly the last time
I shall nurse the poor darling." Then she told Mrs. Jones about Mrs.
Spires, and both women tried to arrive at a decision.
"Since you have to put the child out to nurse, you might as well put him there as elsewhere; the woman will look after him as well as she can—she'll do that, if it is for the sake of the six shillings a week."
"Yes, yes, I know; but I've always heard that children die that are put out to nurse. If mine died I never should forgive myself."