The Judge, in a slightly bewildered state of mind, was pushing his way out to the hall door, beyond this flood of talk. He had a feeling that he would like to reach the quiet of his own home, and think things over. However, some sort of an answer was due to her, so he turned once more. “I would rather have had that boy’s father an honest man.”
Mrs. Tingsby was so close on his heels, and was listening so intently, that she caught a few words.
“Boy—yes!” she exclaimed, nodding her head at Titus, and grinning amiably, “an honest boy!”
“I say,” roared the Judge, stopping short, “that I wish your little boy had had an unblemished parentage.”
“My boy,” she responded, sadly, “my boy—why, sir, I have three—an’ how I’m goin’ to raise ’em the Lord knows.”
Meanwhile the child was drawing back. He was now thoroughly roused from sleep, and his little face was quite disturbed.
“Mother Tingsby,” he said, pulling at the woman’s gown, and drawing down her ear to his small mouth, “is this the husband of the good third mother?”
“Yes, lamb, yes,” said the woman, nodding her head a great many times, “an’ your second mother bids you go. Be good an’ clever.”
The child gave her an anguished glance. He did not wish to go with these strangers. However, he had been trained to look forward to just such an event, and he made no protest. Putting his little hand in the one that Titus held out, he followed the Judge to the street.