Susan was spreading jam on a slice of bread-and-butter for the one-armed Nick.

“I dare say you don’t remember me playing the barrel organ all down Regent Street that day, do you?” said Miss Ingate.

“Oh, yes; quite well.  You were magnificent!” answered Jane, with blue eyes sparkling.

“Well, though I only just saw you—­I was so busy—­I should remember you anywhere, Miss Foley,” said Miss Ingate.

“Do you notice any difference in her?” questioned Susan Foley harshly.

“N-o,” said Miss Ingate.  “Except, perhaps, she looks even younger.”

“Didn’t you notice she’s lame?”

“Oh, well—­yes, I did.  But you didn’t expect me to mention that, did you?  I thought your sister had just sprained her ankle, or something.”

“No,” said Susan.  “It’s for life.  Tell them about it, Jenny.  They don’t know.”

Jane Foley laughed lightly.

“It was all in the day’s work,” she said.  “It was at my last visit to Holloway.”

Audrey, gazing at her entranced, like a child, murmured with awe: 

“Have you been to prison, then?”

“Three times,” said Jane pleasantly.  “And I shall be going again soon.  I’m only out while they’re trying to think of some new way of dealing with me, poor things!  I’m generally watched.  It must cost them a fearful lot of money.  But what are they to do?”

“But how were you lamed?  I can’t eat any tea if you don’t tell me—­really I can’t!”

“Oh, all right!” Jane laughed.  “It was after that Liberal mass meeting in Peel Park, at Bradford.  I’d begun to ask questions, as usual, you know—­questions they can’t answer—­and then some Liberal stewards, with lovely rosettes in their buttonholes, came round me and started cutting my coat with their penknives.  They cut it all to pieces.  You see that was the best argument they could think of in the excitement of the moment.  I believe they’d have cut up every stitch I had, only perhaps it began to dawn on them that it might be awkward for them.  Then two of them lifted me up, one by the feet and the other by the shoulders, and carried me off.  They wouldn’t let me walk.  I told them they’d hurt my leg, but they were too busy to listen.  As soon as they came across a policeman they said they had done it all to save me from being thrown into the lake by a brutal and infuriated mob.  I just had enough breath left to thank them.  Of course, the police weren’t going to stand that, so I was taken that night to London.  Everything was thought of except my tea.  But I expect they forgot that on purpose so that I should be properly hungry when I got to Holloway.  However, I said to myself, ’If I can’t eat and drink when I want, I won’t eat and drink when they want!’ And I didn’t.