the hospital, for I was wearing my private clothes, you know. But hoot!
She didn't take unmarried young ladies without businesses, and I was out
in the street once more.

"I didn't mind it, not I indeed, and it was only for fun after all; but
since people objected to girls without businesses, I made up my mind to
be a singer if anybody asked me the question again. My third landlady had
only one room, and it was on the second floor back, but before I got the
length of mounting to this eyry I went through my examination afresh. 'In
the profession, miss?' 'What profession?' 'The styge, of course.' 'Well,
ye--yes, something of that sort.' 'Don't tyke anybody that's on the
styge.'

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I could have screamed, it was so ridiculous; but
time was getting on, Big Ben was striking four, and the day was closing
in. Then I saw the sign, 'Home for Girls.' 'Wonder if it is a charity?'
thinks I; but no, it didn't look like that, so in I went as bold as
brass, and inquired for the manageress. 'Is it the matron you mean,
miss?' 'Very well, the matron then,' said I, and presently she came
up--no, not smiling, for she wasn't an amiable-looking Christian, but I
thought she would smother me with mysterious questions. 'Tired of the
life, are you, my dear? It _is_ a cruel one, isn't it?' I stood my ground
for some minutes, and then, feeling dreadfully thick in the throat, and
cold down the back, I asked her what she was talking about, whereupon she
looked bewildered and inquired if I was a good girl, and being told that
I hoped so, she said she couldn't take me in there, and then pointed to a
card oh the wall which, simpleton that I was, I hadn't read before: 'A
home and rescue is offered to women who desire to leave a life of misery
and disgrace.'

"I _did_ scream that time, the world was so nonsensical. At one place,
being 'on the styge' I was not good enough to be taken in, at another I
was not bad enough, and what in the name of all that was ridiculous was
going to happen next? But it was quite dark by this time, the air was as
black as a northwest gale, and I was 'aweary for all my wings,' so
forgetting Dick Whittington _fille_, and only remembering the good female
Samaritan who had asked me to stay with her, I made a dart for Victoria
Street and jumped into the first 'bus that came along, just as the hotels
and the clubs and the great buildings were putting' out the Prince of
Wales's feathers as sign and symbol of th