ow. Well, you're to go an' wait
at the door till he comes out, and then you're to tell him to come to
Mrs. Hewett at wunst. Understand?--Why ain't these tea-things all
cleared away? All right Wait till you come back, that's all. Now be
off, before I skin you alive!'

On the floor in a corner of the kitchen lay something that had once
been a girl's hat. This Jane at once snatched up and put on her head.
Without other covering, She ran forth upon her errand.

CHAPTER II

A FRIEND IN REQUEST

It was the hour of the unyoking of men. In the highways and byways of
Clerkenwell there was a thronging of released toilers, of young and
old, of male and female. Forth they streamed from factories and
workrooms, anxious to make the most of the few hours during which they
might live for themselves. Great numbers were still bent over their
labour, and would be for hours to come, but the majority had leave to
wend stablewards. Along the main thoroughfares the wheel-track was
clangorous; every omnibus that clattered by was heavily laden with
passengers; tarpaulins gleamed over the knees of those who sat outside.
This way and that the lights were blurred into a misty radiance;
overhead was mere blackness, whence descended the lashing rain. There
was a ceaseless scattering of mud; there were blocks in the traffic,
attended with rough jest or angry curse; there was jostling on the
crowded pavement. Public-houses began to brighten up, to bestir
themselves for the evening's business. Streets that had been hives of
activity since early morning were being abandoned to silence and
darkness and the sweeping wind.

At noon to-day there was sunlight on the Surrey hills; the fields and
lanes were fragrant with the first breath of spring, and from the
shelter of budding copses many a primrose looked tremblingly up to the
vision of blue sky. But of these things Clerkenwell takes no count;
here it had been a day like any other, consisting of so many hours,
each representing a fraction of the weekly wage. Go where you may in
Clerkenwell, on every hand are multiform evidences of toil, intolerable
as a nightmare. It is not as in those parts of London where the main
thoroughfares consist of shops and warehouses and workrooms, whilst the
streets that are hidden away on either hand are devoted in the main to
dwellings Here every alley is thronged with small industries; all but
every door and window exhibits the advertisement of a craft that is
c