"No," replied Mr. Jones, on general principles.
For answer the stranger picked a cambric handkerchief off the floor.
"That's mine," said Mr. Jones hastily.
"Perhaps," was the sneering reply, "you will tell me also that the child is yours."
"Certainly," said Mr. Jones, ruffled by his cross-examination; "it always has been."
The stranger snorted contemptuously. "You are good at explanations. Perhaps you can explain this."
Mr. Jones looked down at the baby's coat. To his amazement he beheld a crown and monogram embroidered on it.
"That," he replied, taking refuge in fatuity, "is the laundry mark."
"Come, come, enough of this fooling. Give me the child."
Mr. Jones took no notice.