“Who?”
“Her little sister-in-law.” Edwin pointed to Maria.
Gladys Mann went peremptorily up to Edwin Shaw, seized his coat-collar, and shook him. “For goodness sake! when did she went?” she demanded. “When did you see her? If you know anythin', tell it, an' not stand thar like a fool!”
“I saw a little girl jest about her size, a-carryin' of a doll, that clim on the New York train jest as we went out this mornin',” replied Edwin with a gasp, as if the information were wrung from him by torture. “And she was with a awful fat woman. Leastways—”
“A fat woman!” cried Wollaston Lee. “Who was the fat woman?”
“I hadn't never saw her afore. She was awful fat, and was a steppin' on her dress.”
Wollaston was keen-witted, and he immediately grasped at the truth of the matter.
“You idiot!” he said. “What makes you think she was with the stout woman—just because she was climbing into the train after her?”
“Little girls don't never go to New York alone with dolls,” vouchsafed Edwin, more idiotically than ever. “Leastways—”
“If you don't stop saying leastways, I'll punch your head,” said Wollaston. “Are you sure the child was Maria's little sister?”