could get to her.

When I reached the house of the Olivers the worst of my fears were
relieved. Mrs. Oliver was sitting before the fire with baby on her lap.

At sight of me the woman began to mumble out something about my delay,
and how she could not be held responsible if anything happened; but
caring nothing about responsibility, hers or mine, I took baby from her
without more words.

My child was in a state of deep drowsiness, and when I tried to rouse
her I could not do so. I gathered that this condition had lasted
twenty-four hours, during which she had taken no nourishment, with the
result that she was now very thin.

I knew nothing of children's ailments but a motherly instinct must have
come to my aid, for I called for a bath, and bathed baby, and she awoke,
and then took a little food.

But again she dropped back into the drowsy condition, and Mrs. Oliver,
who was alarmed, called in some of the neighbours to look at her.

Apparently the mission of the good women was to comfort Mrs. Oliver, not
me, but they said, "Sleep never did no harm to nobody," and I found a
certain consolation in that.

Hours passed. I was barely sensible of anything that happened beyond the
narrow circle of my own lap, but at one moment I heard the squirling of
a brass band that was going up the street, with the shuffling of an
irregular procession.

"It's the strike," said Mrs. Oliver, running to the window. "There's
Ted, carrying a banner."

A little later I heard the confused noises of a strike meeting, which
was being held on the Green. It was like the croaking of a frog-pond,
with now and then a strident voice (the bricklayer's) crying "Buckle
your belts tighter, and starve rather than give in, boys." Still later I
heard the procession going away, singing with a slashing sound that was
like driving wind and pelting rain:

"_The land, the land, the blessed, blessed land,
Gawd gave the land to the people_."

But nothing awakened baby, and towards three in the afternoon (the idea
that she was really ill having taken complete possession of me) I asked
where I could find the nearest doctor, and being told, I went off in
search of him.

The doctor was on his rounds, so I left a written message indicating
baby's symptoms and begging him to come to her immediately.

On the way back I passed a number of children's funerals--easily
recognisable by the combined coach and hearse, the white linen "weepers"
worn by the