he stood under a lamp-post, muttering to herself, "I _must_ git rid of
it. Better to do so than see it starved to death before my eyes."

Presently a foot-fall was heard, and a man drew near. The woman gazed
intently into his face. It was not a pleasant face. There was a scowl
on it. She drew back and let him pass. Then several women passed, but
she took no notice of them. Then another man appeared. His face seemed
a jolly one. The woman stepped forward at once and confronted him.

"Please, sir," she began, but the man was too sharp for her.

"Come now--you've brought out that baby on purpose to humbug people with
it. Don't fancy you'll throw dust in _my_ eyes. I'm too old a cock for
that. Don't you know that you're breaking the law by begging?"

"I'm _not_ begging," retorted the woman, almost fiercely.

"Oh! indeed. Why do you stop me, then?"

"I merely wished to ask if your name is Thompson."

"Ah hem!" ejaculated the man with a broad grin, "well no, madam, my name
is _not_ Thompson."

"Well, then," rejoined the woman, still indignantly, "you may move on."

She had used an expression all too familiar to herself, and the man,
obeying the order with a bow and a mocking laugh, disappeared like those
who had gone before him.

For some time no one else appeared save a policeman. When he
approached, the woman went past him down the street, as if bent on some
business, but when he was out of sight she returned to the old spot,
which was near the entrance to an alley.

At last the woman's patience was rewarded by the sight of a burly little
elderly man, whose face of benignity was unmistakably genuine.
Remembering the previous man's reference to the baby, she covered it up
carefully, and held it more like a bundle.

Stepping up to the newcomer at once, she put the same question as to
name, and also asked if he lived in Russell Square.

"No, my good woman," replied the burly little man, with a look of
mingled surprise and pity, "my name is _not_ Thompson. It is Twitter--
Samuel Twitter, of Twitter, Slime and--, but," he added, checking
himself, under a sudden and rare impulse of prudence, "why do you ask my
name and address?"

The woman gave an almost hysterical laugh at having been so successful
in her somewhat clumsy scheme, and, without uttering another word,
darted down the alley. She passed rapidly round by a back way to
another point of the same street she had left--well ahead of the spot