It will be noticed, too, that in the list given a cot of some sort was always provided for the little baby. Unfortunately, this is not a universal rule. It appears here because the investigation insisted on the new baby having a cot to itself. Otherwise it would have taken its chance in the family bed. In winter the mothers find it very difficult to believe that a new-born baby can be warm enough in a cot of its own. And when one looks at the cotton cot blankets, about 30 inches long, which are all their wildest dreams aspire to, one understands their disbelief. The cost of a cot at its cheapest runs as follows: Banana-crate with sacking bottom, 1s.; bag filled with chaff for mattress, 2d.; blankets, 1s. 6d. bought wholesale and sold at cost price. This mounts up to 2s. 8d., and, for a woman who has to buy blankets at an ordinary shop, a quality good enough for the purpose would cost her more. She would have to spend something like 3s. 6d. over the child’s cot—a sum which is beyond the reach of most women with a 20s. budget. As a rule it would be safe to say that the new baby does take its share of the risks of the family bed, legislation to the contrary notwithstanding. The rest of the furniture is both as insufficient and crowded as is the sleeping accommodation. There are not enough chairs, though too many for the room. There is not enough table space, though too much for the room. There is no wardrobe accommodation other than the hook behind the door, and possibly a chest of drawers, which may partly act as a larder, and has in the visitor’s experience been used as a place in which to put a dead child. To take an actual case of a one-room tenement. There are four children, all living. The man is a dusky, friendly soul who usually addresses an elderly visitor as “mate.” On first making his acquaintance, the visitor was so much struck by the brilliance of his teeth shining from his grimy face, that she ventured to express her admiration. “Yes, mate, an’ I tell yer why: ’cause I cleans ’em,” he answered delightedly, and after a short pause added, “once a week.” On one occasion the visitor, noticing that a slight pressure was needed on a certain part of the baby’s person, looked for a penny in her purse, found none, but was supplied by the interested father. The penny was quickly stitched into a bandage, and tied firmly over the required place. The next week saw the family in dire need of a penny to put in the gas-meter in order to save the dinner from being uncooked. At the moment of crisis a flash of genius inspired the father; the baby was undressed, the penny disinterred, and the dinner saved. The visitor, arriving in the middle of the scene, could but accept the position, sacrifice a leaden weight which kept the tail of her coat hanging as it should, and rebandage the baby.