"Well, as for that, I only know that when Flossy was seeing better days
and lived in the upper part of the city, she used to have money come
every month for taking care of the boy. Where it come from I don't
know; but I kind of surmise it was a long distance off. Then she took to
drinking, and got lower and lower down until she came here, six months
ago. I don't suppose the boy's folks, or whoever it was sent the money,
knew the way she was living, though they couldn't have cared much, for
they never came to see how things were; and he was in an asylum before
Flossy took him, I found that out; but, anyhow, the money stopped coming
three months ago. Flossy wrote twice to the folks, whoever they were,
but didn't get no answer to her letters; and she told me that she should
turn the boy out in a week or two if some cash didn't turn up in that
time. She wouldn't have kept him so long as this if he hadn't been so
handy taking care of the baby."

"Well, who does the baby belong to?"

"You ask me too much," replied Nancy, taking another deep draught from
the pitcher. "Help yourself, Ettie; there's plenty more where that came
from. Flossy never liked the boy, and always wanted to get rid of him,
but couldn't afford to. He's a dreadful queer, old-fashioned little kid,
and so smart that he's gettin' to be a reg'lar nuisance round the
house. But you see he and the baby,--Gabrielle's her name, but they call
her Lady Gay, or some such trash, after that actress that comes here so
much,--well, they are so in love with one another that wild horses
couldn't drag 'em apart; and I think Flossy had a kind of a likin' for
Gay, as much as she ever had for anything. I guess she never abused
either of 'em; she was too careless for that. And so what was I talkin'
about? Oh, yes. Well, I don't know who the baby is, nor who paid for her
keep; but she's goin' to be one o' your high-steppers, and no mistake.