"Yus, go along ’ome," supplemented the stupid man. "You can’t stop out ’ere all night. And what’s the good o’ worryin’? People’s got to pay for bein’ married an’ that in _this_ world. It might be worse, you know, young Emma——" "Ah!" interpolated the younger man. "It might be worse, you know, ole Emma!" "What is it, after all," pursued his stout companion, "what is it, after all, to bury a baby? I remember well when we was nailin’ up our Number Three——" The stout man’s reminiscences ended suddenly. It was the fist of the younger man which ended them. "Chew that, ye one-eyed wind-bag," observed its owner. Then, drawing Emma gently from the wall, he placed his arm about her, and whispered something in a voice which aspired clumsily to be hopeful. Now that the girl was facing me, I could see that she did not carry a child, as I had at first supposed. It was merely an end of shawl which she carried—a rude sort of nest or pocket, pressed close to her bosom, as if in waiting for some tender burden. "Come along ’ome, ole girl," the young man urged. "What’s the use o’ dawdlin’?" "Go away!" replied the woman. "Leave a girl in peace, can’t you? I’m waitin’ for my baby. I’m waitin’ for nine o’clock, like the gentleman said.... I wonder if ’e’s sleepin’? I wonder if they’ve ’urt ’im? ... I wonder if he’s dead?" "Ain’t you comin’ ’ome?" pleaded the man. "Ain’t you goin’ away?" the woman answered. "What’s the good o’ pesterin’? Can’t you ’ear what I tell you? Do you wanter send me mad—fussin’ an’ pesterin’? "There’s a clock; one, now, an’ the gentleman said nine." "That was ’arpas’ twelve struck then," observed the stout man. "And the gentleman said nine," sighed the girl. "Think e’ll ’ave ’is mind back be the mornin’, ’Erb? ’E never knowed nothin’ when we left; never knowed nothin’ when I carried ’im out from ’ome. Did you see ’ow fast ’is teeth was? Did—— The gentleman said, ’Don’t worry.’ Must be a fool. What did you wanter move the lamp for?" "Table was so full, an’ the cloth was draggin’. Anyone might ’a’ stepped on it. I never meant no ’arm, ole Emma." "Bin all right if the door was shut. Might be nursin’ ’im now, ’Erb, in yere overcoat, ’stead of ’im—— Did you see ow drored out ’is fingers was when the gentleman come to look? ’Ow long before nine? Think they’d let us in before? It’s all through that door bein’ open. That curtain it—— Gawd’s Truth, ’Erb, it was the _noo_ curtain what I put up yesterday. It was _my_ curtain. _I_ done it, I killed my baby." "’_E_ ain’t killed," asserted the fat man. "Be as right as I am in a twel’month." "I put up that curtain to show off; that’s all I put it up for. And it blew on to the lamp, an’ it—it—Gawd blind me, I’ve killed my baby."