“She may be the devil for all I care,” returned Mrs. Dinneford.
Mrs. Bray did as she was ordered, but with an evident reluctance that irritated Mrs. Dinneford.
“Go now and bring up the woman,” she said, sharply.
The woman was brought. She was past the prime of life, and had an evil face. You read in it the record of bad passions indulged and the signs of a cruel nature. She was poorly clad, and her garments unclean.
“You will take this child?” said Mrs. Dinneford abruptly, as the woman came into her presence.
“I have agreed to do so,” she replied, looking toward Mrs. Bray.
“She is to have fifty dollars,” said the nurse.
“And that is to be the last of it!” Mrs. Dinneford's face was pale, and she spoke in a hard, husky voice.
Opening her purse, she took from it a small roll of bills, and as she held out the money said, slowly and with a hard emphasis,
“You understand the terms. I do not know you—not even your name. I don't wish to know you. For this consideration you take the child away. That is the end of it between you and me. The child is your own as much as if he were born to you, and you can do with him as you please. And now go.” Mrs. Dinneford waved her hand.