d in strokes as modest as the shy
violet. When Jonah reached Cardigan Street, he was preoccupied and
silent, and sat on the veranda, smoking in the dark, long after Ada and
her mother had gone to bed.

About one o'clock Mrs Yabsley, who was peacefully ironing shirts in her
sleep, was awakened by a loud hammering on the door. She woke up, and
instantly recognized what had happened. Ada had left the candle
burning and had set the house on fire, as her mother had daily
predicted for the last ten years. Then the hammering ceased.

"Are yez awake, Mum?" cried Jonah's voice.

"No," said Mrs Yabsley firmly. "'Ow did it 'appen?"

"'Appen wot?" cried Jonah roughly.

"'Ow did the 'ouse ketch fire?" said Mrs Yabsley, listening for the
crackling.

"The 'ouse ain't a-fire, an' ye're talkin' in yer sleep."

"Wot!" cried Mrs Yabsley, furiously, "yer wake me up out o' me sleep to
tell me the 'ouse ain't a-fire. I'll land yer on the 'ead wi' me
slipper, if yer don't go to bed."

"I say, Mum," entreated Jonah, "will yer gimme five quid on Monday, an
ask no questions?"

Mrs Yabsley's only answer was a snore.

But a week later the morning procession that trudged along Botany Road
towards the city was astonished at the sight of a small shop, covered
with huge calico signs displaying in staring red letters on a white
ground the legend:

WHILE U WAIT.
Boots and Shoes Soled and Heeled.
GENTS, 2/11; LADIES, 1/11; CHILDS, 1/6.

The huge red letters, thrown out like a defiance and a challenge,
caused a sensation in the Road. The pedestrians stopped to read the
signs, looked curiously at the shop, and went on their way. The
passengers in the trams and buses craned their necks, anxious to read
the gigantic advertisement before they were carried out of sight. A
group of urchins, stationed at the door, distributed handbills to the
curious, containing the same announcement in bold type.

Across the street hung Paasch's dingy sign from which the paint was
peeling:

Repairs neatly executed
GENTS, 3/6; LADIES, 2/6; CHILDS, 1/9

--the old prices sanctioned by usage, unchangeable and immovable as the
laws of nature to Paasch and the trade on Botany Road.

The shop itself was transformed. On one side were half a dozen new
chairs standing in a row on a strip of bright red carpet. Gay festoons
of coloured tissue paper, the work of Mrs Yabsley's hands, stretched in
ropes across the ceiling. The window had been clear