"What, a boy?"
"Yes."
They talked more with her; she was thin and young, evidently a servant girl. They also looked at the child, and Helgesen and Lind, who were both short-sighted, polished their glasses and inspected it carefully.
"Are you going off to drown the child?" somebody says.
"No," says the girl in confusion.
That was a nasty question, all the others agreed, and the first one admitted it. He went off to fetch his raincoat, and hung it over the girl's shoulders. Then he tickled the child under the chin and made it smile--a marvel of a child, human bones and rags and dirt all in one little bundle.
"Poor bastard," he said. "Born of a maiden!"
"That's better!" the others remarked. "Now let's do something," they said. "Where do you live?" to the girl.
"I've lived at such and such places," she replied. "Have lived; very well, this is what we'll do," one of them said, taking out his pocketbook. The others followed suit, and a great deal of money was pushed into the girl's hand.
"Wait a minute--wait--I haven't given her enough; I asked her such a nasty question," said the first of them.