Mrs. Chubb shook her finger in Gertie’s face. “Why, it snowed last night, remember? Little mites like that don’t have the lungs to breathe in that cold air. It could kill them both, it could.” Gertie wiped her hands dry on a kitchen towel and stared defiantly at the housekeeper. “Dr. Prestwick said that fresh air will do them good. As long as they’ve wrapped up warm enough. He says as how the babies are breathing all the bleeding dust and smoke from the fires, and they need fresh air to clean out their lungs.” “Well, how are you going to carry them, that’s what I want to know.” “I don’t have to bleeding carry them, do I. Madam is lending me her pram that she had for her boys. It’s a bloody big one, it is, so there’s plenty of room for little Lilly and James.” Mrs. Chubb jerked her chin in the air. “Lilly? You’re calling her Lilly?” Gertie sighed. “Well, Lillian is such a bleeding mouthful for a tiny baby. Sometimes I have trouble getting me bloody tongue around it.”
