to like her--I'm going to like her awfully," she told
herself. She hurried to be ready in time, but the rather unmelodious
dinner-bell had clanged through the house twice before June came to
the door.

"You've unpacked, then?" she said. She looked round the small room
approvingly. "I can see you're one of the tidy ones," she said. "I'm
not; I wish I were. However, we can't all be the same. Are you
ready?"

She took Esther's arm and they went downstairs together.

"Every one knows you're coming," June said as they neared the
dining-room. "Every one always knows everything that goes on here.
Don't take any notice if they stare a lot; they must stare at
something, poor darlings. I'll tell you who they all are and all about
them."

The dining-room was a long, narrow sort of room that looked as if it
once had been two rooms recently thrown into one; the floor was
covered with slippery green linoleum, and there was a long table
running almost the length of the room, with a few smaller ones on
either side.

A grey-haired woman with pebble glasses stood at the head of the long
table; Esther recognised her as the proprietress, Mrs. Elders.

She said good-evening to Esther and stared frigidly at June, as if she
did not like to see the two girls together. She did not approve of the
little face cream lady, though she was careful never to say so, as
June was one of her best paying propositions.

Esther was glad when they reached their own table; glad, too, that she
was more or less out of the way of curious glances.

The dinner was plain, but infinitely superior to the fare she had had
to put up with in the Brixton Road.

"Do you have all your meals here?" she asked June presently.

"No--only breakfast and supper--and not always supper. I go out with
friends sometimes. Every one hasn't given me up just because my family
have. But the food is quite good here. They're rather too fond of rice
and stewed apples; but it might be worse. Turn round presently and
look at the man behind you with the grey hair. Isn't he handsome? We
call him the colonel, though I don't believe he's a colonel at all.
He's a dear, but he always complains about everything. I know he gives
notice regularly on Saturday morning and takes it back again on
Saturday night. Mrs. Elders would think he wasn't well if he missed
giving her notice."

She laughed, and turning in her chair spoke to a young man who was
sitting alone at one of the smaller tables