But this remark was taken by that lady as a deliberate slight to herself. “You’ve got no cause to say that, Bertie,” she remarked, bitterly. “Many’s the cake you’ve eaten of my making in my ’ouse at Shepherd’s Bush. And they was quite good enough for you then.” “You make excellent cakes too, Mrs. Cooper,” he answered. But she was not to be so easily appeased. “I take it very ’ard that you should treat me like this, Bertie,” she added, in a lachrymose way. “And you wouldn’t ’ave been alive to-day if it ’adn’t been for me.” “No, that you wouldn’t, Bertie!” acknowledged his mother. “I’ll tell you ’ow it was,” said Mrs. Cooper, turning to Winnie. “I just popped in ’ere to ’ave a little chat with Mrs. Railing, and there was Bertie in such a state--I never see anything like it. He ’ad convulsions and he was blue all over, and stiff. Oh, he was a sight, I can tell you. Well, ’e was only four months old and Mrs. Railing was in a rare state. You see, ’e was ’er first and she didn’t know what to do no more than a cat would. And I said: ‘It’s no good sending for the doctor, Mrs. Railing,’ I said, ‘he’ll be dead before the doctor comes. You put ’im in a ’ot bath,’ I said, ‘with a pinch of mustard in it.’ And it saved ’is little life.” “I will say that for you, Mrs. Cooper, you do know what to do with babies,” said Mrs. Railing. “And I take it very ’ard that ’e should call me a drunken old woman,” added Mrs. Cooper, putting a handkerchief to her eyes. “I’ve known you for thirty years, Mrs. Railing, and I ask you, ’ave you ever seen me with more than I can carry?” “That I ’aven’t, Mrs. Cooper, and you mustn’t mind what Bertie says. He didn’t mean to speak sharply to you.” “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Railing, and I never thought I should live to ’ear Bertie say such things to me. Last time I come ’ere, he said: ‘Don’t you come to my ’ouse again, Mrs. Cooper. You’re a drunken old woman.’” The tears coursed down her cheeks and she blew her nose loudly. “And I’ve ’ad ’im to stay in my ’ouse at Shepherd’s Bush over and over again. And I used to wash ’im meself, and comb his ’air, and I made a rare lot of ’im. I take it very ’ard that he should say I’m not to pop in and ’ave a chat with an old friend when I’m in the neighbourhood.” Bertram looked at her anxiously, afraid to speak in case there was a scene. But this apparently was just what Mrs. Cooper wanted. “I’ve ’ad a very ’ard life,” she said, with maudlin tears, “I’ve ’ad a lot of trouble with my ’usband, and I’ve brought up seven children--and brought them all up to earn their own living. And if I do take a little drop now and then it’s because I want it. And I don’t take gin like some people do.” This was obviously a home thrust, for Mrs. Railing, with a gasp, drew herself together like a war-horse panting for the fray. “I don’t know what you mean by that, Mrs. Cooper. But no one can call _me_ a drunken old woman.”