Consequently, I made up my mind to send it down to Edward by Susan, telling him what the workhouse people had said, and begging him to go up to them with it, and make them take it in directly, as I told him he must very well know they were in law bound to do. In about two hours, Susan came back, like a good girl, to my infinite delight, without the baby. When I asked her what on earth she had done with it, I thought I should have died with laughter; for she told me, that on her way down to Chancery Lane she had met with Mary Hooper,--who had been a fellow-servant of hers, and who is now living as nurserymaid at Mr. C--tl--n’s, the solicitor, in John Street, Bedford Row--and as she was going to take the two little Misses C--tl--n for a walk in Gray’s-inn Gardens, of course my Miss Susan must go in with her. While she was there, she said, there were some impudent young barristers, whose chambers were on the ground floor, leaning out of one of the windows at the back, and smoking their nasty cigars, and playing the fool with the nursery maids, instead of minding their business. And as she was walking up and down, they must needs go getting into conversation with her; and pretending to admire the baby she had got in her arms, first asking her how old it was, and then declaring that they never before, in the whole course of their lives, saw such a fine boy for his age; and then inquiring whether it was her own, and a whole pack of other rubbish besides. At last one of the gentlemen, who she said had got red hair and sandy whiskers, begged to be allowed to give the dear little baby a kiss, as he was passionately fond of children. So she handed the child up to him, and no sooner had the sharp fellow got hold of it, than he refused to let her have it back again, unless she came round to their chambers and fetched it herself; whereupon Susan told him, that as he wouldn’t give the child up without it, she supposed she must. But no sooner had she got outside the gardens, than it very properly struck her, that as the gentleman was so fond of children, she might just as well leave it with him altogether, instead of letting it go to the workhouse, poor little pet! I really thought I should have killed myself with laughing, for I remembered I had that very morning, before sending the infant round to the workhouse, sewed on again the identical strip of paper which I had found stitched on to its little petticoat body, just to show it to the workhouse authorities, and which requested the party into whose hands the poor babe fell to treat it kindly, and that its name was Alfred.