king little mother who
was endeavouring to arrange the wrapping in the perambulator with one
hand, while with the other she clutched firmly at the arm of an
obstreperous person of three. She smiled at me in wan acknowledgment,
and I said, "May I help?" and tucked in one side of the shawl. Two
mornings later I met the same trio returning from their morning's walk,
a third time I picked the small boy out of a puddle, and helped to wipe
off the mud. That broke the ice, and the mother began to bow to me, and
to exchange a passing word. She is a delicate creature, and has the
exhausted air of one whose life is all work and no play. One day we
walked the length of the block together, and she told me that she had
been married for four years, had had three children and lost one; that
she kept only one maid, and so had to take the children out herself. It
was tiring work, pram-pushing for four or five hours a day, but they
must have fresh air. Nowadays doctors insisted that children should
never stay in, even on wet days. She smiled mirthlessly.

"They are covered up and protected from damp. It's different for the
poor mothers!"

She coughed as she spoke, and then and there the great idea leapt into
my head. I did not disclose it; she would probably have put me down for
a baby-snatcher at once; but I made a point of meeting her on her daily
outings, and of ingratiating myself with the children, and waited
eagerly for an opportunity, which came in the shape of an increasing
cough and cold. Then I pounced.

"Why shouldn't _I_ take the children out this afternoon, and let you go
home and rest? You are not fit to push this heavy pram."

She gaped at me, amazed and embarrassed.

"You? Oh, I couldn't possibly! Why should _you_--"

"Because I should love it. I have nothing to do, and the days seem so
long. I'd be very careful."

"Oh, it's not that! I am sure you would! And the children would love
it. They are so fond of you already; but--"

"Well?"

"I couldn't! It is too much. But I do thank you all the same. It's
sweet of you to have thought of it!"

For the moment it was plainly tactless to urge her further, so I just
repeated:--

"Well, I _mean_ it! Please send for me if you change your mind," and
retreated forthwith.

Behold the reward of diplomacy. That very evening Mr Manners, the
papa, knocked at my door and requested to see Miss Harding. I was
reading comfortably, _sans_ wig and _sans_