He and his friends trundled the perambulator away rapidly across the fields. Edwin had hardly time to give a sigh of relief before he found himself the center of a fresh disturbance. He was approaching the church when another crowd assailed him, headed by the forlorn maiden. She was still in a state of distress, but she was hugging a baby to her. “Ah! You’ve found the baby!” exclaimed Edwin, trying to be amiable. “Where is the perambulator?” she demanded. “Your ’usband ’as taken it away, madam. He seemed to think I—” A tall frigid young man stepped forward and said: “Excuse me, I am the lady’s husband. Will you please explain yourself?” Then Edwin lost his temper. “Well, damn it, I don’t know who you all are!” “The case is quite clear. You volunteered to take charge of the perambulator while my wife was absent. On her return you announce that it is spirited away. I shall hold you responsible for the entire cost—nearly ten pounds.” “Make it a thousand,” roared Edwin. “I’m ’aving a nice cheap day.” “I don’t wish for any more of your insolence, either. My wife has had a very trying experience. The baby has been christened Fred.” “Well, what’s the matter with that?” “Nothing,” screamed the mother. “_Only that it is a girl!_ It’s a girl and it has been duly christened Fred in a Christian church. Oh! there’s been an awful muddle.” “It’s not this old fool’s fault,” interpolated the elderly woman quietly. “You see, Mrs. Frank and Mrs. Fred Smith were both going to have their babies christened to-day. Only Mrs. Frank was took sick, and sent me along with the child. I went to the wrong church and thinkin’ there was some mistake, went back home. Mrs. Frank’s baby’s never been christened at all. In the meantime, the ceremony was ready to start at St. Paul’s and Frank ’isself was there. No baby. They sends old Binns to scout around at other churches. People do make mistakes—finds this good lady’s child all primed up for christening in the church door, and no one near, carries it off. In the meantime, the father had gone on the ramp. It’s him that probably went off with the perambulator and trounced you up a bit, old sport. It’ll learn you not to interfere so much in future perhaps.” “And the baby’s christened Fred!” wailed the mother. “My baby! My Gwendoline!” And she looked at Edwin with bitter recrimination in her eyes. There was still a small crowd following and boys were jeering, and a fox-terrier, getting very excited, jumped up and bit Mr. Pothecary through the seat of his trousers. He struck at it with his stick, and hit a small boy, whose mother happened to be present. The good lady immediately entered the lists. “Baby-killer.... Hun!” were the last words he heard as he was chased up the street and across the fields in the direction of his own village.