"
"I observe," said Cecil, with dignity, "that there is supposed to be
a license to laugh at Mrs. Duncombe and whatever she does."
"She would do better to mind her children," said Frank.
"Children! Has she children?" broke in Anne and Rosamond, both at
once.
"Didn't you know it?" said Jenny.
"No, indeed! I didn't think her the sort of woman," said Rosamond.
"What does she do with them?"
"Drops them in the gutter," said Frank. "Literally, as I came home,
I heard a squeak, and found a child flat in a little watercourse. I
picked it out, and the elder one told me it was Ducky Duncombe, or
some such word. Its little boots had holes in them, mother; its
legs were purple, and there was a fine smart foreign woman flirting
round the corner with young Hornblower."
"Boys with long red hair, and Highland dresses?" exclaimed Rosamond.
"Yes, the same we saw with Miss Vivian!"
"Exactly!" said Frank, eagerly. "She is quite a mother to those
poor little wretches; they watch for her at the Sirenwood gate, and
she walks with them. The boy's cry was not for mother or nurse, but
for Lena!"
"Pray, did she come at his call?"
"No; but when I carried the brat home, poor Duncombe told me almost
with tears, how good she is to them.
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