then, one evening, the Minettis' baby having been sick, she came in to
ask about it, bringing what she called "a bit of a custard" in a bowl.
Hal was suspicious enough of the ways of men, especially of
business-men; but when it came to women he was without insight--it did
not occur to him as singular that an Irish girl with many troubles at
home should come out to nurse a Dago woman's baby. He did not reflect
that there were plenty of sick Irish babies in the camp, to whom Mary
might have taken her "bit of a custard." And when he saw the surprise of
Rosa, who had never met Mary before, he took it to be the touching
gratitude of the poor!

There are, in truth, many kinds of women, with many arts, and no man has
time to learn them all. Hal had observed the shop-girl type, who dress
themselves with many frills, and cast side-long glances, and indulge in
fits of giggles to attract the attention of the male; he was familiar
with the society-girl type, who achieve the same end with more subtle
and alluring means. But could there be a type who hold little Dago
babies in their laps, and call them pretty Irish names, and feed them
custard out of a spoon? Hal had never heard of that kind, and he thought
that "Red Mary" made a charming picture--a Celtic madonna with a
Sicilian infant in her arms.

He noticed that she was wearing the same faded blue calico-dress with a
patch on the shoulder. Man though he was, he realised that dress is an
important consideration in the lives of women. He was tempted to suspect
that this blue calico might be the only dress that Mary owned; but
seeing it newly laundered every time, he concluded that she must have at
least one other. At any rate, here she was, crisp and fresh-looking; and
with the new shining costume, she had put on the long promised "company
manner": high spirits and badinage, precisely like any belle of the