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 down our wy; and you, ma'am, I suppose are P. S.?"

"Yes," said Prudence faintly.

"And this is the dear baby? Pitty ickle sing!" said Mrs. Brown, making a dab with a motherly forefinger at Augusta's cheek. Augusta looked at her very hard, and Prudence could not help hoping that she was as favourably impressed as herself.

"Yes," she said, "this is the baby I wish you to take charge of, and on whom I hope you will bestow motherly care."

"That, ma'am," replied Mrs. Brown, "you may rest assured on. How old is the little dear?"

Prudence was all confusion.

"I really don't know," she faltered. "A few years-I mean a few months old-about six weeks, perhaps."

"Is the baby your own, ma'am?" enquired Mrs. Brown in a tone of surprise.

"Oh, dear, no!" cried Prudence aghast. "It is not my child at all. As a matter of fact, I am not married."

"Indeed! You'll excuse me asking the question, ma'am; but in a matter of business like this you understand one has to be particular, with such a fine, comfortable, 'appy