"God pity you!" returned big Mary Ann.
"Ah, that reminds me," put in Mr. Wattles, and coming nearer to the laundress, he explained: "My friend here is the banker, Mr. Clatfield."
"It's proud I am this day," she answered, with a courtesy.
"He has no children," went on Mr. Wattles, "but he is very anxious to adopt one, and knowing that you have more than you really need——"
"What are you saying?" began Mr. Clatfield, but his voice was drowned in an outbreak from the woman.
"Is it daft ye are?" she cried. Mr. Wattles continued, unheeding:
"He is willing to give you ten thousand dollars for such a one as this"—indicating with his cane an animated lump upon the floor.
"Me Teddy, is it?" cried the mother, catching up the lump and depositing it for safety in an empty tub.
"Or what would you say to twenty thousand for this one here?" persisted Mr. Wattles, again making use of his cane.
"Sure that's me Dan," the woman almost shrieked, and another lump went into the tub.