|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
she wore. By the time they finished dinner the child had dozed off to sleep. Slyme got up from his chair and stood with his back to the fire, looking down at them; presently he spoke, referring, of course, to the baby:
`He's very like you, isn't he?'
`Yes,' replied Ruth. `Everyone says he takes after me.'
Slyme moved a little closer, bending down to look at the slumbering infant.
`You know, at first I thought he was a girl,' he continued after a pause. `He seems almost too pretty for a boy, doesn't he?'
Ruth smiled. `People always take him for a girl at first,' she said. `Yesterday I took him with me to the Monopole Stores to buy some things, and the manager would hardly believe it wasn't a girl.'