I want to talk to Mr. Waddington."
The child obeyed at once. His eyes, however, were longingly fixed upon
the book of engravings.
"Perhaps you would like to have a look at these?" Mr. Waddington
suggested.
Alfred held out his hands eagerly.
"Thank you very much," he said. "It is very kind of you. I am very
fond of this sort of picture."
Burton took Mr. Waddington by the arm and led him out into the
warehouse.
"Whose child is that?" the latter demanded curiously.
"Mine," Burton groaned. "Can you guess what has happened?"
Mr. Waddington looked puzzled.
"You remember the day I went down to Garden Green? You gave me two
beans to give to Ellen and the child. It was before we knew that their
action was not permanent."
"I remember quite well," Mr. Waddington confessed.
"You remember I told you that Ellen threw them both into the street? A
man who was wheeling a fruit barrow picked up one. I told you about
that?"
"Yes!"
"This child picked up the other," Burton declared, solemnly.
Mr. Waddington stared at him blankly. "You don't mean to tell me," he
said, "that this is the ill-dressed, unwashed, unmannerly little brat
whom your wife brought into the office one day, and who turned the ink
bottles upside down and rubbed the gum on his hands?"
"This is the child," Burton admitted.
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