A CHILD OF THE JAGO
Looey; she told me to tell you to come at once."
Pigeony Poll? What right had she in the room? The ghost of Hannah Perrott's respectability rose in resentment. She supposed she must go. She arose, mystified, and went, with Dicky at her skirts.
Pigeony Poll sat by the window with the baby in her arms, and pale misgiving in her dull face. "I—I come in, Mrs. Perrott, mum," she said, with a hush in her thick voice, "I come in 'cos I see you goin' out, an' I thought the baby 'd be alone. She—she's 'ad a sort 'o fit—all stiff an' blue in the face an' grindin' 'er little mouth. She's left auf now—but I—I dunno wot to make of 'er. She's so—so—"
Hannah Perrott stared blankly, and lifted the child, whose arm dropped and hung. The wizen age had gone from Looey's face, and the lids were down on the strained
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