did he?' said Gertie, when Victoria told her
of the incident.

'No, not exactly. Unless he stole it from the first man.'

''Ow could he steal it if he didn't take it?' snapped Gertie.

'Well, he made believe to tip me when he didn't, and he made believe
that the first man was mean when it was he who was,' said Victoria. 'So
he stole it from the first man to give it me.'

'Lord, I don't see what yer after,' said Gertie. 'You ain't lost
nothing. And the first fellow he ain't lost nothing either. He'd _left_
his money.'

Victoria struggled for a few sentences. The little Cockney brain could
not take in her view. Gertie could only see that Victoria had had
twopence from somebody instead of from somebody else, so what was her
trouble?

'Tell yer wot,' said Gertie summing up the case, 'seems ter me the
fellow knew wot he was after. Dodgy sort of thing to do. Oughter 'ave
thought of the looking-glass though.'

Victoria turned away from Gertie's crafty little smile. There was
something in the girl that she could not understand; nor could Gertie
understand her scruple. Gertie helped her a little though to solve the
problem of waste; this girl could hardly be wasted, thought Victoria,
for of what use could she be? She had neither the fine physique that
enables a woman to bear big stupid sons, nor the intelligence which
breeds a cleverer generation; she was sunk in the worship of easy
pleasure, and ever bade the fleeting joy to tarry yet awhile.

'She isn't alive at all,' said Victoria to Lottie. 'She merely grows
older.'

'Well, so do we,' replied Lottie in matter of fact tones.

Victoria was compelled to admit the truth of this, but she did not see
her point clearly enough to state it. Lottie, besides, did nothing to
draw her out. In some ways she was Victoria's oasis in the desert, for
she was simple and gentle, but her status lymphaticus was permanent. She
did not even dream.

Victoria's psychological enquiries did not tend to make her popular. The
verdict of the 'Rosebud' was that she was a 'rum one,' perhaps a 'deep
one.' The staff were confirmed in their suspicions that she was a 'deep
one' by the obvious attentions that Mr Burton paid her. They were not
prudish, except Bella, who objected to 'goings on'; to be distinguished
by Butty was rather disgusting, but it was flattering too.

'He could have anybody he liked, the dirty old tyke,' remarked Cora. 'Of
course I'm not taking any,' she added in response to