el voice, speaking to mankind from high above this sordid world.

It helped Giles, and it helped Connie too. She sat by the fire in this
well-furnished room and looked anxiously towards the door. Once she got
up on tiptoe. She had almost reached the door, but had not quite done
so, when Mrs. Warren turned, gave a loud snore, and opened her eyes. She
did not speak when she saw Connie, but her eyes seemed to say briefly,
"Well, don't you go any farther"; and Connie turned back into her small
bedroom.

Sharp at four o'clock Mrs. Warren started up.

"Now then," she said, "I'm goin' to get the tea ready."

"Can I help you, ma'am?" asked Connie. "Shall I make you some toast,
ma'am?"

"Toast?" cried Mrs. Warren. "Toast? Do you think I'd allow yer to spile
yer purty face with the fire beatin' on it? Not a bit o' it! You set
down there--it's a foine lydy you be, and I ha' to take care of yer."

"But why should yer do that, ma'am? I ain't put into the world to do
naught. I ha' always worked 'ard--father wanted me to."

"Eh?" said Mrs. Warren. "But I'm yer father and mother both now, and I
don't want yer to."

"Don't yer?" said Connie.

She sank down and folded her hands in her lap.

"I must do summut to whiten them 'ands o' yours," said Mrs. Warren; "and
I'm goin' to get yer real purty stockings an' boots to wear. You must
look the real lydy--a real lydy wears neat boots and good gloves."

"But I ain't a lydy," said Connie; "an' wots more," she added, "I don't
want to be."

"You be a lydy," said Mrs. Warren; "the Halmighty made yer into one."

"I don't talk like one," said Connie.

"No; but then, yer needn't speak. Oh lor'! I suppose that's Agnes
a-poundin' at the door. Oh, stand back, child, and I'll go to her."

Mrs. Warren opened the door, and Agnes stepped in.

"I ha' took French leave," she said. "I dunno wot they'll say at the
factory, but yere I be. You promised, you know, Mrs. Warren, ma'am, as I
shouldn't 'ave naught to do with factory life, niver no more."

"You needn't," said Mrs. Warren. "I ha' a deal o' work for yer to get
through; but come along into my bedroom and we'll talk over things."

Mrs. Warren and Agnes disappeared into the bedroom of the former, Mrs.
Warren having first taken the precaution to lock the sitting-room door
and put the key into her pocket. Poor Connie felt more than ever that
she was a prisoner. More than ever did she long for the old life which
she had lived. Notwithstand