where she had stood so long and so patiently that night. Here she
suddenly uncovered the baby's face and kissed it passionately for a few
moments. Then, wrapping it in the ragged shawl, with its little head
out, she laid it on the middle of the footpath full in the light of a
lamp, and retired to await the result.

When the woman rushed away, as above related, Mr Samuel Twitter stood
for some minutes rooted to the spot, lost in amazement. He was found in
that condition by the returning policeman.

"Constable," said he, cocking his hat to one side the better to scratch
his bald head, "there are strange people in this region."

"Indeed there are, sir."

"Yes, but I mean _very_ strange people."

"Well, sir, if you insist on it, I won't deny that some of them are
_very_ strange."

"Yes, well--good-night, constable," said Mr Twitter, moving slowly
forward in a mystified state of mind, while the guardian of the night
continued his rounds, thinking to himself that he had just parted from
one of the very strangest of the people.

Suddenly Samuel Twitter came to a full stop, for there lay the small
baby gazing at him with its solemn eyes, apparently quite indifferent to
the hardness and coldness of its bed of stone.

"Abandoned!" gasped the burly little man.

Whether Mr Twitter referred to the infant's moral character, or to its
being shamefully forsaken, we cannot now prove, but he instantly caught
the bundle in his arms and gazed at it. Possibly his gaze may have been
too intense, for the mild little creature opened a small mouth that bore
no proportion whatever to the eyes, and attempted to cry, but the
attempt was a failure. It had not strength to cry.

The burly little man's soul was touched to the centre by the sight. He
kissed the baby's forehead, pressed it to his ample breast, and hurried
away. If he had taken time to think he might have gone to a
police-office, or a night refuge, or some such haven of rest for the
weary, but when Twitter's feelings were touched he became a man of
impulse. He did not take time to think--except to the extent that, on
reaching the main thoroughfare, he hailed a cab and was driven home.

The poor mother had followed him with the intention of seeing him home.
Of course the cab put an end to that. She felt comparatively easy,
however, knowing, as she did, that her child was in the keeping of
"Twitter, Slime and ---." That was quite enough to enable her to trace
Mr Twit