"Sonnie!" she said. "You've been having a heavy time, eh? Poor kid! You've got nice eyes, you know! Be careful what you do with 'em. It was eyes like yours what did for Bertha. Poor Bertha! She was a slim lass once, Prayer Book and all, and parasol on Sundays, all complete!" "Who's Bertha, please?" "Hush, sonnie, hush, I'm talking! Bertha? Don't tell Reginald--I'm Bertha! He wasn't a big feller neither, what done her in! And it wasn't for money, anyways, _I_ can tell you. Love it was, and it isn't all the girls can say that! And he went with his lips this way and with his eyes that way, and where was you? Yes, he had eyes just like yours, Arthur! Your name is Arthur, isn't it?" "No, my name's Philip!" "Oh, we are a gentleman, aren't we? 'No, my name's Philip!' Haw! haw! Your name's not Philip, see? Your name's Arthur! What's good enough for him is good enough for _you_, Arthur. So there, Arthur! ... I'm sorry, kid, I'm not laughing at you. You see, I'm feeling all funny like...." She passed the back of her hand across her forehead. A big bead of clammy sweat was thrust backward into the maze of her yellowish hair. "To tell you the honest, Arthur," she whispered, leaning over towards the boy, "he's been and pitched me out!" She lifted her voice. "Pitched me out, he has, the dirty heathen, at two o'clock in the morning! After all the times we've had together. Scarborough! Oh, Scarborough! The waiters stand round you and says 'Lobster, ma'am, _with_ hock?' polite as polite! And here am I! Not good enough for the likes of him, ain't I? I'll show him up! Pitched me out...." She took a fluffy handkerchief from the depths of her blouse and tapped each eye. "I beg your pardon," said Philip with uneasy politeness, "have you had to leave home too?" "Home, sonnie, home? I've got a _home_! Oh, it's all right about my _home_! But now and again a night out, eh, is the goods for Bertha! I'm one of the girls! I'm a bird! I'm not too particular about my perch, though I _have_ got a little perch of my own! But I was ... hello! Some one's coming! Can you see who it is?" "Yes," said Philip. "It's a policeman, I think!" She whispered into his ear anxiously. "Listen, I'm going to be your ma when he comes up, if he asks things. Understand? You've got the sick sudden, and I thought a walk would settle your stomach. Now...." The policeman advanced and halted. "Hello, missus!" he said. "Burglars or what?" "No, constable," replied the lady with quiet dignity, "my poor Arthur's got a touch of the colic so I thought it best to give him a breath of air like." She was wiping Philip's forehead with the little handkerchief. "Are you feeling better now, Arthur boy?" "Best go and stow him between the sheets, lady. He'll catch his death in the damp air," the policeman growled amiably, and walked away.