“I know,” said Liz; “but she’s always had the money for the child, and surely it wasn’t much to ask her to let me keep it warm on such a cold night as this.” Jim Duds looked meditative. “Wot makes yer care for that babby so much?” he asked. “‘T ain’t yourn.” Liz sighed. “No,” she said, sadly. “That’s true. But it seems something to hold on to, like. See what my life has been!” She stopped, and a wave of colour flushed her pallid features. “From a little girl, nothing but the streets--the long, cruel streets! and I just a bit of dirt on the pavement--no more; flung here, flung there, and at last swept into the gutter. All dark--all useless!” She laughed a little. “Fancy, Jim! I’ve never seen the country!” “Nor I,” said Jim, biting a piece of straw reflectively. “It must be powerful fine, with naught but green trees an’ posies a-blowin’ an’ a growin’ everywheres. There ain’t many kitching areas there, though, I’m told.” Liz went on, scarcely heeding him: “The baby seems to me like what the country must be--all harmless and sweet and quiet; when I hold it so, my heart gets peaceful somehow--I don’t know why.” Again Jim looked speculative. He waved his bitten straw expressively. “Ye’ve had ‘sperience, Liz. Hain’t ye met no man like wot ye could care fur?” Liz trembled, and her eyes grew wild.. “Men!” she cried, with bitterest scorn--“no men have come my way, only brutes!” Jim stared, but was silent; he had no fit answer ready. Presently Liz spoke again, more softly: “Jim, do you know I went into a great church to-day?” “Worse luck!” said Jim, sententiously. “Church ain’t no use nohow as far as I can see.” “There was a figure there, Jim,” went on Liz, earnestly, “of a Woman holding up a Baby, and people knelt down before it. What do you s’pose it was?” “Can’t say!” replied the puzzled Jim. “Are ye sure ‘t was a church? Most like ‘t was a mooseum.” “No, no!” said Liz. “‘T was a church for certain; there were folks praying in it.” “Ah, well,” growled Jim, gruffly, “much good it may do ‘em! I’m not of the prayin’ sort. A woman an’ a babby, did ye say? Don’t ye get such cranky notions into yer head, Liz! Women an’ babbies are common enough--too common, by a long chalk; an’ as for prayin’ to ‘em--” Jim’s utter contempt and incredulity were too great for further expression, and he turned away, wishing her a curt “Good-night!”