ladies in society used them. Mrs Yabsley never
tired of hearing Miss Perkins describe the splendours of her lost home.
She recognized that she had lived in another world, where you lounged
gracefully on velvet couches and life was one long holiday.

"It's funny," she remarked, "'ow yer run up agin things in this world.
I never 'ad no partic'lar fancy fer dirty clothes an' soapsuds, but in
my time, which ever way I went, I never ran agin the drorin'-room
carpet an' the easy-chairs. It was the boilin' copper, the scrubbin'
brush, an' the kitchen floor every time."

She was intensely interested in Miss Perkins's cousin, who was on his
way from England to marry her. She described him so minutely that Mrs
Yabsley would have recognized him if she had met him in the street.
His income, his tastes and habits, his beautiful letters to Miss
Perkins, filled Mrs Yabsley with respectful admiration. As a special
favour Miss Perkins promised to read aloud one of his letters
announcing his departure from England, but found that she had mislaid
it. She made up for it by consulting Mrs Yabsley on the choice of a
husband. Mrs Yabsley, who had often been consulted on this subject,
gave her opinion.

"Some are ruled by 'is 'andsome face, an' some by 'ow much money 'e's
got, but they nearly all fergit they've got ter live in the same 'ouse
with 'im. Women 'ave only one way of lookin' at a man in the long run,
an' if yer ask my opinion of any man, I want ter know wot 'e thinks
about women. That's more important, yer'll find in the long run, than
the shape of his nose or the size of 'is bankin' account."

Mrs Yabsley still hid her money, but out of the reach of rats and mice,
and Miss Perkins had surprised her one day by naming the exact amount
she had in her possession. And she had insisted on Mrs Yabsley going
with her to the Ladies' Paradise and buying a toque, trimmed with jet,
for thirty shillings, a fur tippet for twenty-five shillings, and a
black cashmere dress, ready-made, for three pounds. Mrs Yabsley had
never spent so much money on dress in her life, but Miss Perkins
pointed out that the cadgers in Cardigan Street went out better dressed
than she on Sunday, and Mrs Yabsley gave in. Miss Perkins refused to
accept a fur necklet, slightly damaged by moth, reduced to
twelve-and-six, but took a plain leather belt for eighteen pence. They
were going out to-morrow for the first time to show the new clothes,
and she had left