"Let me get my hat," said Mary.
Having put on hat and coat in her own bedroom, the fighting educator looked into the room beyond, where the babies and their grandmother were considerably spread over creation.
"Angela gone?" asked Mrs. Wing presently, in the midst of cooing.
"Yes," said Mary; and let it stand at that.
"Look how he cuddles in his granny's arm. I had to change his little socks again. She was very strange with them, Mary, didn't you think so?"
"Strange?—how do you mean?"
"Why, she just didn't seem to care anything about them! Didn't you notice, she hardly looked at Paulie once! How could she help loving such little darlings? And she seems such a nice, womanly girl, too."
"Well, all women aren't maternal, mother, don't you know that?"
"In my day," said Mrs. Wing imperturbably, "all good women loved babies."
But when Mary said where she was off to now, a shadow fell on her mother's calm face, and Mary saw it. However, Mrs. Wing said nothing, this time.