“And how long was this poor child under your care?” Jervy went on.
“How can I tell you, at this distance of time? For some months, I should say. This I’m certain of—I kept it for six good weeks after the ten pounds he gave me were spent. And then—” she stopped, and looked at Phoebe.
“And then you got rid of it?”
Mrs. Sowler felt for Jervy’s foot under the table, and gave it a significant kick. “I have done nothing to be ashamed of, miss,” she said, addressing her answer defiantly to Phoebe. “Being too poor to keep the little dear myself, I placed it under the care of a good lady, who adopted it.”
Phoebe could restrain herself no longer. She burst out with the next question, before Jervy could open his lips.
“Do you know where the lady is now?”
“No,” said Mrs. Sowler shortly; “I don’t.”
“Do you know where to find the child?”
Mrs. Sowler slowly stirred up the remains of her grog. “I know no more than you do. Any more questions, miss?”
Phoebe’s excitement completely blinded her to the evident signs of a change in Mrs. Sowler’s temper for the worse. She went on headlong.