“Didn’t you know his missis had a kid?”

“Yes; but that is no excuse for William’s staying away from his sick wife,” I answered, sharply.  A baby in such a home as William’s, I reflected, must be trying; but still—­Besides, his class can sleep through any din.

“The kid ain’t in our court,” the girl explained.  “He’s in W., he is, and I’ve never been out of W.C.; leastwise, not as I knows on.”

“This is W. I suppose you mean that the child is at West Kensington?  Well, no doubt it was better for William’s wife to get rid of the child—­”

“Better!” interposed the girl. “’Tain’t better for her not to have the kid.  Ain’t her not having him what she’s always thinking on when she looks like a dead one?”

“How could you know that?”

“Cause,” answered the girl, illustrating her words with a gesture, “I watches her, and I sees her arms going this way, just like as she wanted to hug her kid.”

“Possibly you are right,” I said, frowning; “but William had put the child out to nurse because it disturbed his night’s rest.  A man who has his work to do—­”

“You are green!”

“Then why have the mother and child been separated?”

“Along of that there measles.  Near all the young ’uns in our court has ’em bad.”

“Have you had them?”

“I said the young ’uns.”

“And William sent the baby to West Kensington to escape infection?”

“Took him, he did.”

“Against his wife’s wishes?”

“Na-o!”

“You said she was dying for want of the child?”

“Wouldn’t she rayther die than have the kid die?”

“Don’t speak so heartlessly, child.  Why does William not go straight home from the club?  Does he go to West Kensington to see it?”

“’Tain’t a hit, it’s an ’e.  Course he do.”

“Then he should not.  His wife has the first claim on him.”

“Ain’t you green!  It’s his missis as wants him to go.  Do you think she could sleep till she knowed how the kid was?”

“But he does not go into the house at West Kensington?”

“Is he soft?  Course he don’t go in, fear of taking the infection to the kid.  They just holds the kid up at the window to him, so as he can have a good look.  Then he comes home and tells his missis.  He sits foot of the bed and tells.”

“And that takes place every night?  He can’t have much to tell.”

“He has just.”

“He can only say whether the child is well or ill.”

“My!  He tells what a difference there is in the kid since he seed him last.”

“There can be no difference!”

“Go ’long!  Ain’t a kid always growing?  Haven’t Mr. Hicking to tell how the hair is getting darker, and heaps of things beside?”

“Such as what?”

“Like whether he larfed, and if he has her nose, and how as he knowed him.  He tells her them things more ’n once.”