"Well, well, times he takes a notion to scrummage in dustheaps, the lil' scavenger! 'Tis the male in him, I reckons. And far-seein'. He do take a squint into the future, seemin'ly."
Fancy stared at Mrs. Yellam, slightly startled.
"He buries bones and beastliness all over my garden. I caught 'un wi' a cod's head, and cuffed his, I did."
"I took the notion that he was worrying about—about me."
"Did 'ee, now? Natural enough. You bide so ca'm as I be. Worry brings peevish children into this world. You sing a hymn, if you think it'll hearten you up. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers,' be my fav'rite."
"I do love 'Abide with Me.'"
"You sing what you've a mind to. You be near your time, and must please yourself. Singin' helped me, but it druv my pore man to the ale-house. So I quit hymns, for his sake."
"Was Mr. Yellam with you when your first baby was born?"
"My, no! What a queer lil' thing you be! He was carrier, wi' business to attend to. Men bain't wanted at such times."
"I should like to have Alfred."