ke it with yer! I like that! Wot imperence! Take it with yer!" Then,
with her huge red arms akimbo, she added, with a grin, "Tell yer wot,
if yer likes to pay me 'arf a crown, yer can 'ave it to cuddle, an'
welcome!"

Another shout of approving merriment burst from the drink-sodden
spectators of the little scene, and the girl crouched on the ground
removed her encircling hands from her knees to clap them loudly, as she
exclaimed:

"Well done, Mother Mawks! One doesn't let out kids at night for nothing!
'T ought to be more expensive than daytime!"

The face of Liz had grown white and rigid.

"You know I can't give you that money," she said, slowly. "I have not
tasted bit or drop all day. I must live, though it doesn't seem worth
while. The child"--and her voice softened involuntarily--"is fast
asleep; it's a pity to wake it, that's all. It will cry and fret all
night, and--and I will make it warm and comfortable if you'd let me."
She raised her eyes hopefully and anxiously. "Will you?"

Mother Mawks was evidently a lady of an excitable disposition. The
simple request seemed to drive her nearly frantic. She raised her voice
to an absolute scream, thrusting her dirty hands through her still
dirtier hair as the proper accompanying gesture to her vituperative
oratory.

"Will I! Will I!" she screeched. "Will I let out my hown babby for the
night for nuthin'? Will I? No, I won't! I'll see yer blowed into the
middle of next week fust! Lor' 'a' mussey! 'ow 'igh an' mighty we are
gittin', to be sure! The babby'll be quiet with you, Miss Liz, will
it, hindeed! An' it will cry an' fret with its hown mother, will
it, hindeed!" And at every sentence she approached Liz more nearly,
increasing in fury as she advanced. "Yer low hussy! D'ye think I'd let
ye 'ave my babby for a hour unless yer paid for 'it? As it is, yer
pays far too little. I'm an honest woman as works for my livin' an' wot
drinks reasonable, better than you by a long sight, with yer stuck-up
airs! A pretty drab you are! Gi' me the babby; ye 'a'n't no business to
keep it a minit longer." And she made a grab at Liz's sheltering shawl.

"Oh, don't hurt it!" pleaded Liz, tremblingly. "Such a little
thing--don't hurt it!"

Mother Mawks stared so wildly that her blood-shot eyes seemed protruding
from her head.

"'Urt it! Hain't I a right to do wot I likes with my hown babby? 'Urt
it! Well, I never! Look 'ere!"--and she turned round on the assembled
neighbours--"ha