in a rug, sits MRS. ROBERTS, a thin and dark-haired
woman about thirty-five, with patient eyes. Her hair is not
done up, but tied back with a piece of ribbon. By the fire,
too, is MRS. YEO; a red-haired, broad-faced person. Sitting
near the table is MRS. ROUS, an old lady, ashen-white, with
silver hair; by the door, standing, as if about to go, is MRS.
BULGIN, a little pale, pinched-up woman. In a chair, with her
elbows resting on the table, avid her face resting in her hands,
sits MADGE THOMAS, a good-looking girl, of twenty-two, with high
cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and dark untidy hair. She is
listening to the talk, but she neither speaks nor moves.

MRS. YEO. So he give me a sixpence, and that's the first bit o'
money I seen this week. There an't much 'eat to this fire. Come and
warm yerself Mrs. Rous, you're lookin' as white as the snow, you are.

MRS. ROUS. [Shivering--placidly.] Ah! but the winter my old man
was took was the proper winter. Seventy-nine that was, when none of
you was hardly born--not Madge Thomas, nor Sue Bulgin. [Looking at
them in turn.] Annie Roberts, 'ow old were you, dear?

MRS ROBERTS. Seven, Mrs. Rous.

MRS. ROUS. Seven--well, there! A tiny little thing!

MRS. YEO. [Aggressively.] Well, I was ten myself, I remembers it.

MRS. Rous. [Placidly.] The Company hadn't been started three years.
Father was workin' on the acid, that's 'ow he got 'is pisoned-leg.
I kep' sayin' to 'im, "Father, you've got a pisoned leg." "Well," 'e
said, "Mother, pison or no pison, I can't afford to go a-layin' up."
An' two days after, he was on 'is back, and never got up again. It
was Providence! There was n't none o' these Compensation Acts then.

MRS. YEO. Ye had n't no strike that winter! [With grim humour.]
This winter's 'ard enough for me. Mrs. Roberts, you don't want no
'arder winter, do you? Wouldn't seem natural to 'ave a dinner, would
it, Mrs. Bulgin?

MRS. BULGIN. We've had bread and tea last four days.

MRS. YEO. You got that Friday's laundry job?

MRS. BULGIN. [Dispiritedly.] They said they'd give it me, but when
I went last Friday, they were full up. I got to go again next week.

MRS. YEO. Ah! There's too many after that. I send Yeo out on the
ice to put on the gentry's skates an' pick up what 'e can. Stops 'im
from broodin' about the 'ouse.

MRS. BULGIN. [In a desolate, matter-of-fact voice.] Leavin'