stood for some
time between her and sleep. She was tired out, for the day had been
full of excitement, but it was quite into the small hours before her
tired eyes were closed in heavy slumber.

Not far away, in a small flat in Sparrow Street, another girl slept
also. This girl had cried herself to sleep; the tears were even still
wet upon her eyelashes. Grannie had come into the room and looked at
Alison. Alison and Polly slept together in the tiniest little offshoot
of the kitchen--it was more a sort of lean-to than a room; the roof
sloped so much that by the window, and where the little dressing-table
stood, only a very small person could keep upright. Grannie belonged
to the very small order of women. She always held herself upright as a
dart, and though it was late now, she did not show any signs of fatigue
as she stood with a shaded candle looking down at the sleeping girl.
Alison's face was very pale; once or twice she sighed heavily. As
Grannie watched her she raised her arm, pushed back her hair, which lay
against her cheek, turned round, sighed more deeply than ever, and then
sank again into unbroken slumber.

"She's dreaming of it all," thought the old woman. "I wonder if Jim,
bless him, will clear her. I know he'll do his best. I believe he's a
good lad. I wish Alison would get engaged to him right away. Jim's
doing well in the shop, and they might be married and--dear, dear, I
_wish_ my hand didn't ache so bad. Well, there's one good thing about
it anyway--I needn't waste time in bed, for sleep one wink with this
sort of burning pain I couldn't, so I may jest as well set up and put
that feather-stitching straight. It's certain true that there aint a
single thing in the world what hasn't some good p'int about it, and
here is the good p'int in this pain of mine: I needn't waste the hours
of darkness laying and doing nothink in bed."

Grannie stole out of the room as softly as she had entered. She shut
the door behind her without making the least sound; she then lit a
little lamp, which was much cheaper than gas, saw that it burned trim
and bright, and set it on the center-table in the kitchen. The night
was bitterly cold; the fog had been followed by a heavy frost. Grannie
could hear the sharp ringing sound of some horses' feet as they passed
by, carrying their burdens to the different markets. It was long past
twelve o'clock. The little kitchen was warm, for the stove had burned
merrily