"But none to spare. Besides, you won't want other people's children
when you get your own. How about her being the heiress then?"

"I shall never have children of my own," said Deb, with tightened lips.
"That is why I want to adopt one." Rose laughed the idea to scorn.

"Of course you will!" cried she. "You must. All the money in the world
is nothing compared with a baby. I wouldn't give one of mine for twenty
fortunes--not if I had to earn their keep at the wash-tub."

"Not even for the child's own advantage?"

"It is not to any child's advantage to grow up thinking that its mother
did not care to be a mother to it," said Rose. "Nor yet--possibly--to
grow up to look down on her."

"Rose!" Deb's guilty face flamed scarlet.

"Or on her father," Rose continued, with soft but firm persistence.
"She must have a father too, Deb, and Peter would not give his job away
any more than I would give mine. He thinks the world of them all. He is
just as good a father as he is a husband," with a lift of head and
lighting of eye. "Come to me, my precious!" as the baby
whimpered. "Come to its own mother, then! No, no, Debbie dear, you be a
mother yourself in the natural and proper way; you will find it a deal
better than being rich. Marry some good, kind man straight away, before
you waste any more of your young years. I am sure there must be dozens
dying to have you."