It came about in this way. He found the atmosphere of Northern London entirely unsympathetic to good deeds. All his action appeared suspect. He began to feel at last like a criminal. He was convinced that he was being watched and followed. Once he patted a little girl’s head in a paternal manner. Immediately a woman appeared at a doorway and bawled out: “’Ere, Lizzie, you come inside!” At length in disgust he boarded a south-bound ’bus. He decided to experiment nearer home. He went to the terminus and took a train to the station just before his own. It was a small town called Uplingham. This should be the last dance of the moral philanderer. If there was no one in Uplingham upon whom he could perform a good action, he would just walk home—barely two miles—and go to bed and forget all about it. To-morrow he would return to Fish-and-chips, and the normal behavior of the normal citizen. Uplingham was a dismal little town, consisting mostly of churches, chapels and pubs, and apparently quite deserted. As Edwin wandered through it there crept over him a sneaking feeling of relief. If he met no one—well, there it was, he had done his best; and he could go home with a clear conscience. After all it was the spirit that counted in these things.... “O-o-oh!” He was passing a small stone church, standing back on a little frequented lane. The maiden was seated alone in the porch and she was crying. Edwin bustled through the gate and as he approached her he had time to observe that she was young, quietly dressed, and distinctly pretty. “You are in trouble,” he said in his most feeling manner. She looked up at him quickly, and dabbed her eyes. “I’ve lost my baby! I’ve lost my baby!” she cried. “Dear, dear, that’s very unfortunate! How did it happen?” She pointed at an empty perambulator in the porch. “I waited an hour here for my friends and husband and the clergyman. My baby was to be christened.” She gasped incoherently. “No one turned up. I went across to the Vicarage. The Vicar was away. I believe I ought to have gone to St. Bride’s. This is St. Paul’s. They didn’t know anything about it. They say people often make that mistake. When I got back the baby was gone. O-o-o-oh!” “There, there, don’t cry,” said Mr. Pothecary. “Now I’ll go over to St. Bride’s and find out about it.” “Oh, sir, do you mind waiting here with the perambulator while I go? I want my baby. I want my baby.” “Why, yes, of course, of course.” She dashed up the lane and left Mr. Pothecary in charge of an empty perambulator. In fifteen minutes’ time a thick-set young man came hurrying up to the porch. He looked at Edwin and pointing to the perambulator said: “Is this Mrs. Frank’s or Mrs. Fred’s?” “I don’t know,” said Edwin, rather testily. “You don’t know! But you’re old Binns, ain’t you?” “No, I’m not.” The young man looked at him searchingly and then disappeared. Ten minutes elapsed and then a small boy rode up on a bicycle. He was also out of breath.