A MAN AND A BABY.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXX, Issue 428, 25 August 1908, Page 4

A MAN AND A BABY.

You could tell at a glance that he was only a labouring man as he got into the London express at Derby. He carried a six-months-old baby in his arms. He looked awkward and embarrassed, as one unaccustomed to travel with so frail a burden. As he took his seat the passengers exchanged glances, half of amusement, half of indignation. Babies in arms are not popular in a crowded third. So long as the little round eyes were engaged in taking stock of the unwonted surroundings, all went well. Then the trouble began. The baby commenced to cry. The man rocked it clumsily, and dangled a tin rattle before its eyes, but the petulant cry increased until it became an incessant nervedistracting wail. There was no stop till Leicester was reached, and the perturbed passengers could not conceal their annoyance. A woman with a huge bundle in her lap moved uneasily in her seat. Then, with growing impatience, she plumped the bundle on the floor. “ Here, give me the child, master,” she said, ‘‘ it’s clear you don’t know how to handle babies. Whatever yer mi.ssis was a-doin’ to let yer out with it, without her, I can’t think.” A strange look came into the man’s eyes. “ The missis ” began ; then stopped suddenly. Against the kindly bosom of the stranger, the baby sobbed itself to sleep, and with a sigh of relief the compartment turned again to the newspaper. “I’m sorry I ain’t going no further,” said the good woman, as she restored the sleeping child at Leicester, “ but for heaven’s sake, master, don’t go about with a babby again, without yer missis.” To the evident relief of the man the carriage emptied. Left alone, he bent over the sleeping infant and kissed it gently. It was an act of reverence. A tear bedewed the little face as he raised his head. “Us ’ull manage all right, Lucy darhn’ if no body gets in,” he murmured. But it was not to be. As the whistle sounded the door was flung open, and a fur-coated old gentlemen stepped in breathlessly, “A narrow shave,” he said, as he flung his travelling rug on the seat. Then he caught sight of the baby. “Hi! hi! porter,” he cried, testily, “find me another carriage, there’s a baby here. I can’t—” The remainder of the sentence was lost in the .pulsation of the engine. It was too late. The man looked up. ‘ ‘ The little ’un won’t harm you, sir,” he said apologetically. The gentleman gathered his wraps around him, and frowned on the little sleeper. I’m not fond of babies,” he said, curtly ; “ never was.”