o make a _mesalliance_--a pity,
seeing his parts and prospects. He might have aspired to a wife who had
scarcely any difficulty with her _h_'s; whose bringing-up enabled her
to look with compassion on girls who could not play the piano; who
counted among her relatives not one collarless individual.

Clem, as we have seen, had already found, or imagined, cause for
dissatisfaction with her betrothed. She was well enough acquainted with
Bob's repute, and her temper made it improbable, to say the least, that
the course of wooing would in this case run very smoothly. At present,
various little signs were beginning to convince her that she had a
rival, and the hints of her rejected admirer, Jack Bartley, fixed her
suspicions upon an acquaintance whom she had hitherto regarded merely
with contempt. This was Pennyloaf Candy, formerly, with her parents, a
lodger in Mrs. Peckover's house. The family had been ousted some
eighteen months ago on account of failure to pay their rent and of the
frequent intoxication of Mrs. Candy. Pennyloaf's legal name was
Penelope, which, being pronounced as a trisyllable, transformed itself
by further corruption into a sound at all events conveying some
meaning. Applied in the first instance jocosely, the title grew
inseparable from her, and was the one she herself always used. Her
employment was the making of shirts for export; she earned on an
average tenpence a day, and frequently worked fifteen hours between
leaving and returning to her home. That Bob Hewett could interest
himself, with whatever motive, in a person of this description, Miss
Peckover at first declined to believe. A hint, however, was quite
enough to excite her jealous temperament; as proof accumulated, cunning
and ferocity wrought in her for the devising of such a declaration of
war as should speedily scare Pennyloaf from the field. Jane Snowdon's
removal had caused her no little irritation; the hours of evening were
heavy on her hands, and this new emotion was not unwelcome as a
temporary resource.

As he came home from work one Monday towards the end of April, Bob
encountered Pennyloaf; she had a bundle in her hands and was walking
hurriedly.

'Hallo! that you?' ho exclaimed, catching her by the arm. 'Where are
you going?'

'I can't stop now. I've got some things to put away, an' it's nearly
eight.'

'Come round to the Passage to-night. Be there at ten.'

'I can't give no promise. There's been such rows at 'ome. You kn