mouth, where her father was
a fisherman, and owner of bum-boats. Her mother kept a laundry, and the
family had all lived together in easy circumstances. She herself had
come to London--well, just for a change. And what was she doing? Oh,
getting her living as best she could. In the day-time she worked in a
city workroom.

"And how much do you think I earn a week?" she asked.

"Fifteen shillings or so, I suppose?"

"Ah, that's all you know about it! Now, last week was the best I've had
yet, and I made seven shillings."

"What do you do?"

"Machine work; makin' ulsters. How much do you think we get, now, for
makin' a ulster--one like this?" pointing to one which hung behind the
door.

"Have no idea."

"Well,--_fourpence_: there now!"

"And how many can you make in a day?"

"I can't make no more than two. Some make three, but it's blessed hard
work. But I get a little job now and then to do at home."

"But you can't live on seven shillings a week?"

"I sh'd think not, indeed. We have to make up the rest as best we can,
s'nough."

"But your employers must know that?"

"In course. What's the odds? All us girls are the same; we have to keep
on the two jobs at the same time. But I'll give up the day-work before
long, s'nough. I come home at night that tired out I ain't fit for
nothing. I feel all eyes, as the sayin' is. And it's hard to have to go
out into the Strand, when you're like that."

"But do they know about all this at home?"

"No fear! If our father knew, he'd be down here precious soon, and the
house wouldn't hold him. But I shall go back some day, when I've got a
good fit-out."

The door opened quietly, and Ida came in.

"Well, young people, so you are making yourselves at home."

The sweet face, the eyes and lips with their contained mirth, the
light, perfect form, the graceful carriage,--Waymark felt his pulses
throb at the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand.

"You didn't mind waiting a little for me? I really couldn't help it.
And then, after all, I thought you mightn't come."

"But I promised to."

"Promises, promises, oh dear!" laughed Ida. "Sally, here's an orange
for you."

"You _are_ a duck!" was the girl's reply, as she caught it, and, with a
nod to Waymark, left the room.

"And so you've really come," Ida went on, sitting down and beginning to
draw off her gloves.

"You find it surprising? To begin with, I have come to pay my debts."

"Is there another cup of c