Susan came down with a bundle of far-worn baby-clothes.

"You must listen to me a bit, and not think too much about what I'm going
to tell you. Nanny is not my niece, nor any kin to me, that I know of. I
used to go out working by the day. One night, as I came home, I thought
some woman was following me; I turned to look. The woman, before I could
see her face (for she turned it to one side), offered me something. I
held out my arms by instinct; she dropped a bundle into them, with a
bursting sob that went straight to my heart. It was a baby. I looked
round again; but the woman was gone. She had run away as quick as
lightning. There was a little packet of clothes--very few--and as if
they were made out of its mother's gowns, for they were large patterns to
buy for a baby. I was always fond of babies; and I had not my wits about
me, father says; for it was very cold, and when I'd seen as well as I
could (for it was past ten) that there was no one in the street, I
brought it in and warmed it. Father was very angry when he came, and
said he'd take it to the workhouse the next morning, and flyted me sadly
about it. But when morning came I could not bear to part with it; it had
slept in my arms all night; and I've heard what workhouse bringing-up is.
So I told father I'd give up going out working and stay at home and keep
school, if I might only keep the baby; and, after a while, he said if I
earned enough for him to have his comforts, he'd let me; but he's never
taken to her. Now, don't tremble so--I've but a little more to tell--and
maybe I'm wrong in telling it; but I used to work next door to Mrs.
Lomax's, in Brabazon Street, and the servants were all thick together;
and I heard about Bessy (they called her) being sent away. I don't know
that ever I saw her; but the time would be about fitting to this child's
age, and I've sometimes fancied it was hers. And now, will you look at
the little clothes that came with her--bless her!"