“Come, I’ll help you,” said Solomon, carrying the baby to the mouth of the alley pointed out by the little girl. “Is he your brother?”
“O no, sir; I ain’t got no brother. He b’longed to a neighbour who’s just gone dead, an’ mother she was fond o’ the neighbour, an’ promised to take care of the baby. So she gave ’im to me to nuss. An’ oh! you’ve no hidea, sir, what a hobstinate thing ’e is. I’ve ’ad ’im three days now.”
Yes; the child had had him three days, and an amazing experience it had been to her. During that brief period she had become a confirmed staggerer, being utterly incapable of walking with baby in her arms. During the same period she had become unquestionably entitled to the gold medals of the Lifeboat Institution and the Humane Society, having, with reckless courage, at the imminent risk of her life, and on innumerable occasions, saved that baby from death by drowning in washtubs and kennels, from mutilation by hot water, fire, and steam, and from sudden extinction by the wheels of cabs, carriages, and drays, while, at the same time she had established a fair claim to at least the honorary diploma of the Royal College of Surgeons, by her amazing practice in the treatment of bruises and cuts, and the application of sticking-plaster.
“Have you got a father or mother, my dear?” asked the letter-carrier.
“Yes, sir; I’ve got both of ’em. And oh! I’m so miserable. I don’t know what to do.”
“Why, what’s wrong with you?”
The child’s eyes filled with tears as she told how her father had gone off “on the spree;” how her mother had gone out to seek him, promising to be back in time to relieve her of the baby so as to let her keep an appointment she had with a lady; and how the mother had never come back, and didn’t seem to be coming back; and how the time for the engagement was already past, and she feared the lady would think she was an ungrateful little liar, and she had no messenger to send to her.
“Where does the lady live, and what’s her name, little woman?” asked Solomon.
“Her name is Miss Lillycrop, sir, and she lives in Pimlico.”
“Well, make your mind easy, little woman. It’s a curious coincidence that I happen to know Miss Lillycrop. Her house lies rather far from my beat, but I happen to have a messenger who does his work both cheaply and quickly. I do a deal of work for him too, so, no doubt, he’ll do a little for me. His name is Post-Office.—What is your’s, my dear?”