“Uncanny? As how?” persisted Stott.
“Not normal,” explained the nurse. “I can’t tell you more than that.”
“But ’ow? What way?”
He did not receive an answer then; for the long expected relief came at last, a great hulk of a woman, who became voluble when she saw the child she had come to nurse.
“Oh! dear, oh! dear,” the stream began. “How unforchnit, and ’er first, too. It’ll be a idjit, I’m afraid. Mrs. ’Arrison’s third was the very spit of it....”
The stream ran on, but Stott heard no more. An idiot! He had fathered an idiot! That was the end of his dreams and ambitions! He had had an hour’s sleep on the sitting-room sofa. He went out to his work at the County Ground with a heart full of blasphemy.
When he returned at four o’clock he met the stout woman on the doorstep. She put up a hand to her rolling breast, closed her eyes tightly, and gasped as though completely overcome by this trifling rencounter.
“’Ow is it?” questioned the obsessed Stott.
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” panted the stout woman, “the leas’ thing upsets me this afternoon....” She wandered away into irrelevant fluency, but Stott was autocratic; his insistent questions overcame the inertia of even Mrs. Reade at last. The substance of her information, freed from extraneous matter, was as follows:
“Oh! ’ealthy? It’ll live, I’ve no doubt, if that’s what you mean; but ’elpless...! There, ’elpless is no word.... Learn ’im to take the bottle, learn ’im to close ’is ’ands, learn ’im to go to sleep, learn ’im everythink. I’ve never seen nothink like it, never in all my days, and I’ve ’elped to bring a few into the world.... I can’t begin to tell you about it, Mr. Stott, and that’s the solemn truth. When ’e first looked at me, I near ’ad a faint. A old-fashioned, wise sort of look as ’e might ’a been a ’undred. ‘Lord ’elp us, nurse,’ I says, ‘Lord help us.’ I was that opset, I didn’t rightly know what I was a-saying....”