fittings from Jack Ryan, who had tried to
conduct his business from the bar of the nearest hotel, and failed. If
the money had run to Jack's horse and cart, their fortunes would have
been made.

Mrs Partridge's wanderings had ended with the marriage of Pinkey. Only
once had she contrived to move, and the result had frightened her, for
William had mumbled about his lost time in his sleep. And she had
lived in Botany Street for two years, a stone's throw from the new shop
in Pitt Street. She remembered that Chook had helped to move her
furniture in at their first meeting, and, not liking to be out-done in
generosity, resolved to slip round after tea and lend a hand. She
knew, if any woman did, the trouble of moving furniture and setting it
straight. She prepared for her labours by putting on her black silk
blouse and her best skirt, and as William was anchored by the fireside
with the newspaper, she decided to wear her new hat with the ostrich
feathers, twenty years too young for her face, which she had worn for
three months on the quiet out of regard for William's feelings, for it
had cost the best part of his week's wages, squeezed out in shillings
and sixpences, the price of imaginary pounds of tea, butter, and
groceries.

She found Chook with his mouth full of nails, hanging pictures at five
shillings the pair; Pinkey, dishevelled, sweating in beads, covered
with dust, her sleeves tucked up to the elbows, ordering Chook to raise
or lower the picture half an inch to increase the effect. It was some
time before Mrs Partridge could find a comfortable chair where she ran
no risk of soiling her best clothes, but when she did she smiled
graciously on them, noting with intense satisfaction Pinkey's stare of
amazement at the black hat, twenty years too young for her face.

"I thought I'd come round and give you a hand," she explained.

"Thanks, Missis," said Chook, thankful for even a little assistance.

Pinkey stared again at the hat, and Mrs Partridge felt a momentary
dissatisfaction with life in possessing such a hat without the right to
wear it in public. In half an hour Chook and Pinkey had altered the
position of everything in the room under the direction of Mrs
Partridge, who sat in her chair like a spectator at the play. At last
they sat down exhausted and Mrs Partridge, who felt as fresh as paint,
gave them her opinion on matrimony and the cares of housekeeping. But
Pinkey, unable to sit in idleness am