Esther started up from her chair, and fat little Mrs. Spires waddled into the room, the ends of her shawl touching the ground.
"Where is my baby?" said Esther. "Why haven't you brought him?"
"Why, you see, my dear, the sweet little thing didn't seem as well as usual this afternoon, and I did not care to bring him out, it being a long way and a trifle cold…. It is nice and warm in here. May I sit down?"
"Yes, there's a chair; but tell me what is the matter with him?"
"A little cold, dear—nothing to speak of. You must not excite yourself, it isn't worth while; besides, it's bad for you and the little darling in the cradle. May I have a look?… A little girl, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is a girl."
"And a beautiful little girl too. 'Ow 'ealthy she do look! I'll be bound you have made a difference in her. I suppose you are beginning to like her just as if she was your own?"
Esther did not answer.
"Yer know, all you girls are dreadful taken with their babies at first. But they is a awful drag on a girl who gets her living in service. For my part I do think it providential-like that rich folk don't nurse their own. If they did, I dunno what would become of all you poor girls. The situation of wet-nurse is just what you wants at the time, and it is good money. I hope yer did what I told you and stuck out for a pound a week. Rich folk like these here would think nothing of a pound a week, nor yet two, when they sees their child is suited."
"Never mind about my money, that's my affair. Tell me what's the matter with my baby?"