f he would
have the child ready to hand over to Trevelyan on Trevelyan's arrival
in England.

"It ain't to be done, you know," said Bozzle.

"Of course it ain't," said Mrs. Bozzle.

"It ain't to be done anyways;--not in my way of business. Why didn't
he go to Skint, as I told him, when his own lawyer was too dainty for
the job? The paternal parent has a right to his infants, no doubt."
That was Bozzle's law.

"I don't believe it, B."

"But he have, I tell you."

"He can't suckle 'em;--can he? I don't believe a bit of his rights."

"When a married woman has followers, and the husband don't go the
wrong side of the post too, or it ain't proved again him that he do,
they'll never let her have nothing to do with the children. It's been
before the court a hundred times. He'll get the child fast enough if
he'll go before the court."

"Anyways it ain't your business, Bozzle, and don't you meddle nor
make. The money's good money as long as it's honest earned; but when
you come to rampaging and breaking into a gent's house, then I say
money may be had a deal too hard." In this special letter, which had
now come to hand, Bozzle was not instructed to "rampage." He was
simply desired to make a further official requisition for the boy at
the parsonage, and to explain to Mr. Outhouse, Mrs. Outhouse, and
Mrs. Trevelyan, or to as many of them as he could contrive to see,
that Mr. Trevelyan was immediately about to return to London, and
that he would put the law into execution if his son were not given
up to him at once. "I'll tell you what it is, B.," exclaimed Mrs.
Bozzle, "it's my belief as he ain't quite right up here;" and Mrs.
Bozzle touched her forehead.

"It's love for her as has done it then," said Bozzle, shaking his
head.

"I'm not a taking of her part, B. A woman as has a husband as finds
her with her wittels regular, and with what's decent and comfortable
beside, ought to be contented. I've never said no other than that.
I ain't no patience with your saucy madames as can't remember as
they're eating an honest man's bread. Drat 'em all; what is it they
wants? They don't know what they wants. It's just hidleness,--cause
there ain't a ha'porth for 'em to do. It's that as makes 'em--, I
won't say what. But as for this here child, B.--." At that moment
there came a knock at the door. Mrs. Bozzle going into the passage,
opened it herself, and saw a strange gentleman. Bozzle, who had stood
at the inner door, saw tha