by shaving. Now Ada could tell in an
instant whether she was shaven or hairy, for when her lip bristled with
hairs for lack of the razor, she peered over the fence so as to hide
the lower part of her face. Ada, being used to such things, thought at
first she was hiding a black eye. But who was there to give her one?
Aaron the pawnbroker, not being her husband, could not take such a
liberty.

She had introduced herself over the fence the week of Ada's arrival,
giving her the history of the neighbourhood in an unceasing flow of
perfect English, her voice never rising above a whisper. For days she
would disappear altogether, and then renew the conversation by coughing
gently on her side of the fence. This morning her lip was shaven, and
she leaned over the fence, full of gossip. But Ada's sullen face
caught her eye, and instantly she was full of sympathy, a peculiar look
of falsity shining in her light blue eyes.

"Why, what's the matter, dearie?" she inquired.

"Oh, nuthin'," said Ada roughly.

"Ah, you mustn't tell me that! When my poor husband was alive, I've
often looked in my glass and seen a face like that. He was my husband,
and I suppose I should say no more, but men never brought any happiness
to me or any other woman that I know of. The first day I set eyes on
you, I said, 'That's an unhappy woman.'"

"Well, yer needn't tell the bloomin' street," growled Ada.

"What you want is love and sympathy, but I suppose your husband is too
busy making money to spare the time for that. Ah, many's the time,
when my poor dear husband was alive, did I pine for a kind word, and
get a black look instead! And a woman can turn to no one in a trouble
like that. She feels as if her own door had been slammed in her face.
What you want is a cheerful outing with a sympathetic friend, but I
hear you're little more than a prisoner in your own house."

"Who told yer that?" cried Ada, flushing angrily.

"A little bird told me," said the woman, with a false grin.

"Well, I'd wring its neck, if I 'eard it," cried Ada. "And as fer
bein' a prisoner, I'm goin' out this very afternoon."

"Why, how curious!" cried Mrs Herring. "This is my afternoon out. We
could have a pleasant chat, if you have nothing better to do."

Ada hesitated. Jonah always wanted to know where she was going, and
had forbidden her to make friends with the neighbours, for in Cardigan
Street friendship with neighbours generally ended in a fight or