Accordingly, on the morrow, we jumped into a cab, and went down to the place. When we got there, I may safely say I never saw such a beautiful sight in all my life. If there was one dear little baby, I’m sure there must have been at least a hundred; and I really felt as if I could have taken them all in my arms, and hugged them every one--though, I must say, that the noise they made was almost too much for me, for what with the cries of some fifty of them, and the prattling of the mothers to the rest--I declare it was for all the world like the parrot-room at the Zoological Gardens. When _my_ turn came for going in with my child to the doctor, I told Mrs. Toosypegs she must take the child, for I knew I should never be able to bear the sight of that unfeeling wretch of a doctor poking his great big lancet into its pretty little arms; and that I should go making a stupid of myself, and fainting right off at the first drop of blood I saw. So in went nurse, while I stopped outside, and, to drive the thoughts out of my mind, I began playing with a very nice respectable child that was next to me. While I was amusing myself in this way, a poor woman, seeing my arms empty, came up to me, and asked me if I would be kind enough to hold her child for a few minutes, while she stepped out to get a glass of water, for the heat of the place was really too much for her. Of course, I was very glad to oblige her, like a stupid, and, taking her baby, I said, “Certainly, with a great deal of pleasure”--though, if I had known what was going to happen then, I most assuredly would have seen her further first.