Mrs. Everest nodded her pretty black head. “Yes, I know.”
“I didn’t apply to you,” said her caller, “because I know your tender heart. You occupy yourself mostly with the very poor. I wanted a boy of some respectability.”
“Exactly. Baby, stop licking my belt. Did you ever see such a child?”
“On Christmas Eve, just two days ago,” continued the Judge, “I happened to stumble on a child that I thought was a boy, but perhaps you know about it,” for Mrs. Everest was laughing heartily.
“O, yes; River Street knows what River Street does.”
“Then I can omit that part. You know Mrs. Tingsby?”
“O, yes—know her and esteem her. She is a little shy of me because she is so respectable and so self-supporting. She doesn’t want me to help her. She thinks she would lose prestige as a boarding-house keeper. Mafferty—Barry Mafferty, who runs our cat farm—was in last evening. He gave a glowing account of your visit to Mrs. Tingsby. I wish you could hear the nice things he says about you.”
“Has he gone back to his farm?” asked the Judge.
“Yes, we persuaded him to go this morning. He gets terribly bored on the Island, and comes up occasionally to stay for a day or two at Mrs. Tingsby’s. Then Tom and I have to watch him to see that he does not get into the saloons.”
“I promised him a fur coat,” said the Judge.