banter of the women. His manner changed to Ada and her mother; he was
considerate, even kind. Then he began to drop in on Monday or Tuesday
instead of loafing with the Push at the corner. Ada was at the factory;
but Mrs Yabsley, sorting piles of dirty linen, with her arms bared to the
elbow, welcomed him with a smile. He remarked with satisfaction that a
change had come over the old woman. She never spoke of marriage; seemed
to have given up the idea.

But one day, as he sat with the child on his knees, she stopped in front
of the pair, with a bundle of shirts in her arms, and regarded them with
a puzzling smile. The baby lay on its back, staring into space with
solemn, unreflective eyes. From time to time Jonah turned his head to
blow the smoke of his cigarette into the air.

"You'll be gittin' too fond of 'im, if y'ain't careful, Joe," she said
at last.

"Git work; wot's troublin' yer?" said Jonah, with a grin.

"Nuthin'; only I was thinkin' wot a fine child 'e'd be in a few years.
It's a pity 'e ain't got no real father."

"Wot d'yer mean?" said Jonah, looking up angrily. "W'ere do I come in?
Ain't I the bloke?"

"Well, y'are an' y'ain't, yer know," said Mrs Yabsley. "There's two ways
of lookin' at these things."

"'Strewth! I niver thought o' that," said Jonah, scratching his ear.