'All the same, you're responsible,' Jim added, after a moment's silence.
'Bless 'em,' said Mrs. Jim, sleepily.
Before the stars paled, Scott, who slept in an empty cart, waked and went about his work in silence; it seemed at that hour unkind to rouse Faiz Ullah and the interpreter. His head being close to the ground, he did not hear William till she stood over him in the dingy old riding-habit, her eyes still heavy with sleep, a cup of tea and a piece of toast in her hands. There was a baby on the ground, squirming on a piece of blanket, and a six-year-old child peered over Scott's shoulder.
'Hai, you little rip,' said Scott, 'how the deuce do you expect to get your rations if you aren't quiet?'
A cool white hand steadied the brat, who forthwith choked as the milk gurgled into his mouth.
'Mornin',' said the milker. 'You've no notion how these little fellows can wriggle.'
'Oh, yes, I have.' She whispered, because the world was asleep. 'Only
I feed them with a spoon or a rag. Yours are fatter than mine….
And you've been doing this day after day, twice a day?' The voice was
almost lost.
'Yes; it was absurd. Now you try,' he said, giving place to the girl.
'Look out! A goat's not a cow.'
The goat protested against the amateur, and there was a scuffle, in which Scott snatched up the baby. Then it was all to do over again, and William laughed softly and merrily. She managed, however, to feed two babies, and a third.
'Don't the little beggars take it well!' said Scott. 'I trained 'em.'