"Jean was wishing she could bring all the poor children in London to kick on the beach here," said Blair.
"Yes. I often think how very much better off the children here are," said Alison Evans.
"In some respects."
"In all respects, I'm inclined to think. Their fathers and mothers almost worship them. Cruelty to children is unheard of. Bodily they are miles ahead——"
"And morally and spiritually?" he said, to draw her on.
"I have seen children at home, in Glasgow and Edinburgh, almost as benighted as these, and not half so pleasant to deal with. Now, with the chances we are giving them, I think these are infinitely the better off."
"Under the new order of things, perhaps. But hitherto you must remember that death dodged life round every corner here, and life broke off very short at times. However, we cannot clean up all the world; but, please God, we'll do our best with this little bit of it. And now," jumping up, "I must get back to work, or your masters will be calling me names. Don't kill those two infants with kindness, Mary."
He stood looking down upon them all for a moment, while the women all bent over the wrigglers on the white cloth.
"Is it possible that not one of you ever feels a longing for the fleshpots of Egypt?" he asked, with a smile.
"Do we ever show any symptoms?" asked Jean.