g-bottle she stood near while the baby used it.

She had quiet eyes and that indefinable expression of yearning
tenderness which we sometimes see in the eyes of a dear old maid who has
missed her motherhood.

The shop had been clearing rapidly; and as soon as the men were gone,
and while the other girls were sitting in corners to read penny
novelettes, my waitress leaned over and asked me if I did not wish to go
into the private room to attend to baby.

A moment afterwards I followed her into a small apartment at the end of
the shop, and there a curious thing occurred.

She closed the door behind us and asked me in an eager whisper to allow
her to see to baby.

I tried to excuse myself, but she whispered:

"Hush! I have a baby of my own, though they know nothing about it here,
so you can safely trust me."

I did so, and it was beautiful to see the joy she had in doing what was
wanted, saying all sorts of sweet and gentle things to my baby (though I
knew they were meant for her own), as if the starved mother-heart in her
were stealing a moment of maternal tenderness.

"There!" she said, "She'll be comfortable now, bless her!"

I asked about her own child, and, coming close and speaking in a
whisper, she told me all about it.

It was a girl and it would be a year old at Christmas. At first she had
put it out to nurse in town, where she could see it every evening, but
the foster-mother had neglected it, and the inspector had complained, so
she had been compelled to take it away. Now it was in a Home in the
country, ten miles from Liverpool Street, and it was as bonny as a peach
and as happy as the day is long.

"See," she whispered, taking a card from her breast, after a furtive
glance towards the door. "I sent two shillings to have her photograph
taken and the Matron has just sent it."

It was the picture of a beautiful baby girl, and I found it easy to
praise her.

"I suppose you see her constantly, don't you?" I said.

The girl's face dropped.

"Only on visiting days, once a month, and not always that," she
answered.

"But how can you live without seeing her oftener?" I asked.

"Matter o' means," she said sadly. "I pay five shillings a week for her
board, and the train is one-and-eight return, so I have to be careful,
you see, and if I lost my place what would happen to baby?"

I was very low and tired and down when I resumed my walk. But when I
thought for a moment of taking omnibuses for the res