Dodge puckered up his face into an odd expression of mingled reflection and worldly wisdom. “You can’t prevent young fellers bein’ young fellers,” he at length observed.
“It seems almost a pity that being young fellows should also mean being blackguards,” observed Mrs. Temperley calmly.
“Well, there’s somethin’ to be said for that way o’ lookin’ at it,” Dodge was startled into agreeing.
“I suppose she gets all the blame of the thing,” the lady went on, with quiet exasperation. Dodge seemed thrown off his bearings.
“Everybody in Craddock was a-talking about it, as was only to be expected,” said the gravedigger. “Well, well, we’re all sinners. Don’t do to be too hard on folks. ’Pears sad like after keepin’ ’spectable for all them years too—sort o’ waste.”
Mrs. Temperley gave a little laugh, which seemed to Dodge rather eccentric.
“Who is looking after the baby?” she asked.
“One of the neighbours, name o’ Gullick, as her husband works for Lord Engleton, which she takes in washing,” Dodge comprehensively explained.
“Had its mother no relatives?”
“Well, she had an aunt down at Southampton, I’ve heard tell, but she didn’t take much notice of her, not she didn’t. Her mother only died last year, took off sudden before her daughter could get to her.”