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One glance at the child showed me that it was on the verge of death by starvation, and this was confirmed by the moans of the mother, who begged me for humanity’s sake to give her money with which to provide food for the child, even though I let her, herself, starve. You know, my dear, you never allow me to give money to street beggars, and I remembered this, but at the same time I remembered the patent nursing-bottle I still carried in my pocket.

Without hesitation I drew the patent nursing-bottle from my pocket and told the mother to allow the infant to have a sufficient quantity of milk it contained to sustain the child’s life until she could procure other alms or other aid. With a cry of joy the mother took the nursing-bottle and pressed it to the poor baby’s lips, and it was with great pleasure I saw the rosy colour return to the child’s cheeks. The sadness of despair that had shadowed the mother’s face also fled, and I could see that already she was looking on life with a more optimistic view.

I verily believe the child could have absorbed the entire contents of the bottle, but I had impressed upon the mother that she was to give the child only sufficient to sustain life, not to suffice it until it was grown to manhood or womanhood, and when the bottle was half-emptied the mother returned it to me. How much time all this occupied I do not know, but the child took the milk with extreme slowness. I may say that it took the milk drop by drop. A great deal of time must have elapsed.

But when the mother had returned the patent nursing-bottle to me and saw how impatient I was to be gone, she still retained her hold upon my arm.

“Sir,” she said, “you have undoubtedly saved the life of my child, and I only regret that I cannot repay you for all it means to me. But I cannot. Stay!” she cried, when I was about to pull my arm away. “Has your wife auburn-red hair?”

“No,” I said, “she has not, her hair is a most beautiful black.”

“No matter,” said the poor woman, putting her hand to her head. “Some day she may wish to change the colour of her hair to auburn-red, which is easily done with a little bleach and a little dye, and should she do so these may come handy;” and with that she slipped something soft and fluffy into my hand and fled into the night. When I looked, I saw in my hand the very curls you hold there. My first impulse was to drop them in the street, but I remembered that the poor woman had not given them to me, but to you, and that it was my duty to bring them home to you, so I slipped them into my pocket.

When Mr. Billings had ended this recital of what had happened to him his wife said:

“Huh!”

At the same time she tossed the curls into the grate, where they shrivelled up, burst into blue smoke, and shortly disappeared in ashes.

“That is a very likely story,” she said, “but it does not explain how this came to be in your pocket.”

Saying this she drew from her basket the handkerchief and handed it to Mr. Billings.

“Hah!” he exclaimed. For a moment he turned the rolled-up handkerchief over and over, and then he cautiously opened it. At the sight of the twelve acorns he seemed somewhat surprised, and when the initials “T. M. C.” on the corner of the handkerchief caught his eye he blushed.

“You are blushing–you are disturbed,” said Mrs. Billings severely.

“I am,” said Mr. Billings, suddenly recovering himself; “and no wonder.”

“And no wonder, indeed!” said Mrs Billings. “Perhaps, then, you can tell me how those acorns and that handkerchief came to be in your pocket.”