Of the men and women who grow out of such children, the prisons are full; and for such children, though no man takes pity on them, I think the angels weep. Sally, Phil, and Dick were thieves, practised and clever little thieves, already. Joe, Tom, Janey, and Bill were following in their steps. All this, the ruin of this whole family, was owing to the Dolphin. No one can say that it was not doing its work well. It was not with any strong hope of father's return that Molly had put down the kettle for tea. But though she had not done it with a hope, she had certainly done it with a longing. It was very important, indeed, now that mother was dead and a new baby come that father should, if possible, be brought in sober. Having put down the kettle, she went into the neighbour's room, the same poor woman who had been kind to them that morning. "Mrs. Jenkins," she said, "I'm mortal feared 'bout the new baby." "Why so, my dear? he's a nice 'ardy little chap; he won't die, Molly." "Oh! it ain't that," said Molly; "but yer knows wot dad is in 'is cups, and he did sware dreadful wen Bill was born." "The unnat'ral brute!" ejaculated Mrs. Jenkins. "Well, but, Molly, you can hide the little 'un, sure-_ly_." "'Ee'd be positive to ax fur 'im, ma'am; besides, the baby must be fed. No, but ef we could catch father sober. I've bin thinkin'--I remember"---- "Set down, gal. Yer all of a tremble." "I remember, Mrs. Jenkins, ma'am, wen father--I remember wen father was real kind, and he kissed Patty and me, and he was fond o' mother. 'Tis ages back now, but Patty and me, we remembers of it. And wot I'm thinkin' is, ef we could catch 'im sober, why, I'd tell 'im 'bout mother, and mebbe 'ee'd get soft-'arted to the little 'un!" Molly expressed her thoughts very badly, in broken and poor words and with indistinct utterance; but the heart of the child was shining in her eyes, and Mrs. Jenkins understood her. "Ef _an'think_ 'ill move 'im, 'tis the sight as he'll clap 'is h'eyes upon in yer room to-night. You run back, Molly, gal; and I'll make fur the Dolphin, and ef he's not too long there h'already, I'll bring 'm in home, by hook or crook. Oh! and stop; 'ere's a drop o' milk fur the baby." But Mrs. Jenkins was unsuccessful. Timbs had been at the Dolphin for an hour and more. Even there, into that abode of horrors did the brave woman follow him; but the message she tried to deliver, and the very awful news she tried to break to the miserable drunkard, were drowned in jeers and laughter. If Mrs. Jenkins was not kicked out, it was only because she fled in terror. CHAPTER III. "_WOULD IT NOT BE POSSIBLE TO GET RID OF THE BABY?_"