Part 1 (2/2)

”Let them be: it's our turn for a bit of fun. Perhaps they won't come, as they weren't there to-day. Anyhow, we'll risk it. I'm going, but you needn't be Susy Minchin unless you like.”

”Oh, I'll be Susy,” answered Netty, after a moment's anxious reflection; ”but we must take baby. What's to be done with baby? Mother said I was to take charge of him all to-morrow, as she's going out charing. I can't leave baby--that I can't, Ben.”

”If you take the baby we'll be found out,” said Ben.

”Well, I must risk it,” said Netty; ”I can't help it. You can go as Tom Minchin, Ben, and if they turn me back on account of the baby--why, they must, that's all.”

”They won't let baby come, so you had best leave him at home. There's old Mrs. Court can look after him,” said Ben, indicating an old woman who sometimes took care of babies for twopence a day.

”I never thought of Mrs. Court,” said Netty, in a reflective voice; ”but where's the use? I haven't the twopence.”

”I believe I could manage that,” said Ben; ”it's worth a good try, isn't it?”

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”Well, let us run and ask her,” said Netty; ”it would be a great pity if I didn't get off with the rest of you. Do let me look at the tickets once more, Ben.”

Ben condescended to give Netty one more peep.

”Don't you forget when they're calling out our names that you are Susy Minchin,” he said; ”and now if I can get twopence Mrs. Court will look after baby.”

Netty kissed the baby on its little mouth.

”I'd take you if I could, baby,” she said; ”but oh, the sea! the sea! I just do pine for it. I'll bring you back lots of sh.e.l.ls, baby, that I will, and you won't mind old Mrs. Court for once, and I'll have such tales to tell you when I come back.”

So Netty went to find old Mrs. Court, and between them they arranged for the baby's comfort on the following day and Mrs. Court was to have her twopence in the evening.

But the best-made plans do not always come to pa.s.s, for Netty that evening received a lecture from her Mother on the subject of Mrs. Court.

”What is this I hear?” cried the good woman; ”that you mean to give baby to the care of that old woman! Not a bit of it! I wouldn't allow the baby to be seen in her rooms for all you could give me. What do you want to get rid of the baby for? And what are you trying to hide from me, Netty?”

”It's nothing really, Mother; it's just that Ben and I are going to walk to Battersea Park, and we've a penny apiece to buy buns. You won't stop us going, Mother?”

”Now aren't you an unnatural girl!” cried Mrs. Floss. ”Why shouldn't you take the poor baby with you? Wouldn't he like a sight of the park and the green trees as well as you? If you take the baby with you, I'll give you each another penny, and an extra one for the baby, and you can all have a good time; now what do you say?”

”I suppose I must do it, Mother,” answered Netty; ”and you're very kind,” she hastened to add.

Mrs. Floss was far too busy to spend any more time talking to Netty. She regarded the affair as absolutely settled, and went downstairs to tell Mrs. Court that she was not to have the pleasure of looking after the baby the following day.

The next morning broke gloriously fine. Even as early as six o'clock it was intensely hot in the attic where Netty slept. She had laid out all her best things the night before--her blue cotton frock, carefully washed and mangled, her cape to match, her sailor hat, somewhat ragged round the brim, but not very dirty; even her cotton gloves. These last she regarded as great treasures, and imagined that they would give a distinctly genteel air to her appearance.

As there was no possible way out of it, she must take the baby, too, and she must just trust to luck to pulling the thing through. She knew enough about tramways and omnibuses and railway carriages to be aware that a baby in arms costs nothing, and she did not mind little Dan's weight--she was accustomed to it; and she would like very much, as far as she herself was concerned, to take him to the seaside.

Accordingly, the baby was also got early out of his wooden cot, and dressed in his very best clothes. The baby's best frock was made of Turkey-red cotton, very faded, and he had a small worn-out fifth-hand sun-bonnet tied under his chin, and his little legs were bare, but that did not matter--it was, indeed, rather an advantage this hot weather.

Ben frowned very much when he saw the baby.

”Now, what do you mean by this?” he cried; ”how can you be Susy Minchin dragging that big baby about with you? You give it to Mrs. Court.”

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