he was not to be choked by the horrid air. She, Connie, had got a
new situation, and Mrs. Warren was a very nice woman, although she was
so fat and her dress was so loud that even Connie's untrained taste
could not approve of it.

Just then a voice called to her:

"Get up, my dear; I'll have a cosy breakfast ready for yer by the time
yer've put yourself tidily into yer clothes."

"Yes," thought Connie to herself, "I've done well to come. Agnes is
right. I wonder what she'll say when she comes to tea this evening. I
wonder if she met father. I do 'ope as father won't find me. I'd real
like to stay on here for a bit; it's much, much nicer than the cruel
sort of life I 'ave to home."

Connie dressed by the light which was now coming in more strongly
through the window. Mrs. Warren pushed a can of hot water inside the
door, and the girl washed with a strange, unwonted sense of luxury. She
had no dress but the dark-blue, and she was therefore forced to put it
on.

When she had completed her toilet she entered the sitting-room. Mrs.
Warren, in her morning _deshabille_, looked a more unpleasing object
than ever. Her hair was in tight curl-papers, and she wore a very loose
and very dirty dressing-gown, which was made of a sort of pattern
chintz, and gave her the effect of being a huge pyramid of coarse, faded
flowers.

There was coffee, however, which smelled very good, on the hearth, and
there was some toast and bacon, and some bread, butter, and jam. Connie
and Mrs. Warren made a good meal, and then Mrs. Warren began to talk of
the day's programme.

"I have a lot of shopping to do this morning," she said, "and we'll go
out not later than ten o'clock sharp. It's wonderful wot a lot o' things
I has to buy. There's sales on now, too, and we'll go to some of 'em.
Maybe I'll get yer a bit o' ribbon--you're fond o' blue ribbon, I take
it. Well, maybe I'll get it for yer--there's no saying. Anyhow, we'll
walk down the streets, and wot shops we don't go into we'll press our
noses against the panes o' glass and stare in. Now then, my dear, yer
don't s'pose that I'll allow you to come out walking with the likes o'
me with yer 'air down like that."

"Why, 'ow is it to be done?" said Connie. "I take it that it's
beautiful; I ha' done it more tidy than ever."

"But I don't want it tidy. Now then, you set down yere close to the
fire, so that you can toast yer toes, and I'll see to yer 'air."

Connie was forced to obey; more an