The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. I must go and dress at once. Shari would know what to do, but Shari was out with her friend Lisa. Yet I fancy that we who have been poor ourselves must be the best judges of the needs of the people. "I'm dumb. Take care he don't see you,—and bring me word where he goes, and what he does.
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