did so.

"You're rather pretty."

Connie was silent.

"I want," said the stout woman, "a pretty gel, something like you, to
come and sit with me from ten to two o'clock hevery day. Yer dooties'll
be quite light, and I'll give yer lots o' pretty clothes and good
wages."

"But what'll I have to do?" asked Connie.

"Jest to sit with me an' keep me company; I'm lonesome here all by
myself."

Connie looked puzzled.

"You ask wot wages yer'll get," said Agnes, poking Connie on the arm.
Connie's blue eyes looked up. The showy lady was gazing at her very
intently.

"I'll give yer five shillin's a week," she said, "and yer keep, and some
carst-off clothes--my own--now and again; and ef that bean't a bargain,
I don't know wot be."

Connie was silent.

"You 'ad best close with it," said Agnes. "It's a charnce once in a
'undred. Yer'll be very 'appy with Mrs. Warren--her's a real lydy."

"Yes, that I be," said Mrs. Warren. "I come of a very hold family. My
ancestors come hover with William the Conqueror."

Connie did not seem impressed by this fact.

"Will yer come or will yer not?" said Mrs. Warren. "I'll take yer
jaunts, too--I forgot to mention that. Often on a fine Saturday, you an'
me--we'll go to the country together. You don't know 'ow fine that 'ull
be. We'll go to the country and we'll 'ave a spree. Did yer never see
the country?"

"No," said Connie, in a slow voice, "but I ha' dreamt of it."

"She's the sort, ma'am," interrupted Agnes, "wot dreams the queerest
things. She's hall for poetry and flowers and sech like. She's not
matter-o'-fack like me."

"Jest the sort I want," said Mrs. Warren. "I--I loves poetry. You shall
read it aloud to me, my gel--or, better still, I'll read it to you. An'
as to flowers--why, yer shall pluck 'em yer own self, an' yer'll see 'em
a-blowin' an' a-growin', yer own self. We'll go to the country next
Saturday. There, now--ain't that fine?"

Connie looked puzzled. There certainly was a great attraction at the
thought of going into the country. She hated the machine-work. But, all
the same, somehow or other she did not like Mrs. Warren.

"I'll think o' it and let yer know," she said.

But when she uttered these words the stately dressed and over-fine lady
changed her manner.

"There's no thinking now," she said. "You're 'ere, and yer'll stay. You
go out arter you ha' been at my house? You refuse my goodness? Not a bit
o' it! Yer'll stay."

"Oh, yes, Connie," said