all that she could do, as far as she saw, was to buy it a superfluous
woolly lamb. So after her day's work was over, at half-past five,
Julia put on her hat and coat with a purpose, and stepped into the toy
department of her favourite stores.

Julia was not mean; from out the whole flock of lambs which she found
awaiting her selection she chose a beauty. Its white fluffiness and
its beady eyes affected her softly; her handsome face grew motherly as
she insinuated the stranger into her muff, where her hands stroked it
unconsciously. Julia was far more pleased with the lamb than the baby
would be, as she boarded an omnibus and rode towards Hampstead.

It was six when she arrived at the door of No. 30 Welham Mansions, and
Marie opened it to her with the baby in her arms, huddled up in a
rather soiled shawl from which only his incredibly downy head emerged.
He looked solemnly at Julia and emitted an inquiring croak.

"You aren't still carrying that baby out, are you?" Julia asked
suddenly.

They entered the sitting-room together.

"What else can I do? If I go out, he's got to go, too."

"You'll get a perambulator?"

"I'm going to ask Osborn soon."

"Why not ask him now?"

"He's had such a lot of expense, poor boy."

"Still," Julia argued, "it's got to be bought, and you ought to be
saved. Ask him to-night, after dinner."

"I believe I will," said Marie. "My back ached so."

Julia was more bewildered than angry.

"My goodness!" she said sharply. "What's the matter with life? Why
can't a young man and woman have a baby and look healthy over it? I've
got to ask someone that, and get an answer."

Julia followed Marie back to the kitchen.

"I'll whip the cream, if he's got to have it," she said grudgingly.

"And I'll go and look nice for once. Then I'll ask him for the
perambulator."

Marie came out again in the wedding-frock of chiffons, very tumbled
now, looking sweet but with the hectic flush of her exertions still on
her cheeks.

"All my clothes are going to glory!" she lamented.

"Tell you what," said Julia, producing frothy mounds of cream round
her energetic whisk, "do have my bridesmaid dress. I've never worn it
since your wedding--too picturesque for my style, that frock is. But
if you--"

"No, I won't!" Marie protested, tears in her eyes. "I'm not going to
take anything from you except your old gloves for the housework. It
would be scandalous; you, a girl working for her living, and me, a
mar