"What becomes of the baby when they are not using it?" she asked.

"They pay a woman a dollar a week to take care of it at night."

"Do you know where this woman lives?"

"Yes."

"Were you ever there?"

"Yes."

"What kind of a place is it?"

"Worse than a dog-kennel."

"What does all this mean?" demanded Mrs. Dinneford, with repressed
excitement. "Why have you so kept on the track of this baby, when
you knew I wished it lost sight of?"

"I had my own reasons," replied Mrs. Bray. "One doesn't know what
may come of an affair like this, and it's safe to keep well up with
it."

Mrs. Dinneford bit her lips till the blood almost came through. A
faint rustle of garments in the hall caused her to start. An
expression of alarm crossed her face.

"Go now," she said, hurriedly, to her visitor; "I will call and see
you this afternoon."