ed-looking, elderly
female, but genteel in black. She crushes past the little "slavey," and
approaching, eyes me critically.

"I have a very nice room on the first floor," she informs me, "and one
behind on the third."

I agree to see them, explaining that I am seeking them for a young
friend of mine. We squeeze past the hat and umbrella stand: there is
just room, but one must keep close to the wall. The first floor is
rather an imposing apartment, with a marble-topped sideboard measuring
quite three feet by two, the doors of which will remain closed if you
introduce a wad of paper between them. A green table-cloth, matching the
curtains, covers the loo-table. The lamp is perfectly safe so long as
it stands in the exact centre of the table, but should not be shifted.
A paper fire-stove ornament in some mysterious way bestows upon the room
an air of chastity. Above the mantelpiece is a fly-blown mirror, between
the once gilt frame and glass of which can be inserted invitation
cards; indeed, one or two so remain, proving that the tenants even of
"bed-sitting-rooms" are not excluded from social delights. The wall
opposite is adorned by an oleograph of the kind Cheap Jacks sell
by auction on Saturday nights in the Pimlico Road, and warrant as
"hand-made." Generally speaking, it is a Swiss landscape. There appears
to be more "body" in a Swiss landscape than in scenes from less favoured
localities. A dilapidated mill, a foaming torrent, a mountain, a maiden
and a cow can at the least be relied upon. An easy chair (I disclaim
all responsibility for the adjective), stuffed with many coils of steel
wire, each possessing a "business end" in admirable working order, and
covered with horsehair, highly glazed, awaits the uninitiated. There is
one way of sitting upon it, and only one: by using the extreme edge, and
planting your feet firmly on the floor. If you attempt to lean back in
it you inevitably slide out of it. When so treated it seems to say to
you: "Excuse me, you are very heavy, and you would really be much more
comfortable upon the floor. Thank you so much." The bed is behind the
door, and the washstand behind the bed. If you sit facing the window you
can forget the bed. On the other hand, if more than one friend come
to call on you, you are glad of it. As a matter of fact, experienced
visitors prefer it--make straight for it, refusing with firmness to
exchange it for the easy chair.

"And this room is?"

"Eight shil