Now it happened that, at the time of her making Jane Snowdon’s acquaintance, Miss Lant was particularly interested in Shooter’s Gardens and the immediate vicinity.  She had associated herself with certain ladies who undertook the control of a soup-kitchen in the neighbourhood, and as the winter advanced she engaged Jane in this work of charity.  It was a good means, as Michael Snowdon agreed, of enabling the girl to form acquaintances among the very poorest, those whom she hoped to serve effectively—­not with aid of money alone, but by her personal influence.  And I think it will be worth while to dwell a little on the story of this same soup-kitchen; it is significant, and shall take the place of abstract comment on Miss Lant’s philanthropic enterprises.

The kitchen had been doing successful work for some years; the society which established it entrusted its practical conduct to very practical people, a man and wife who were themselves of the nether world, and knew the ways thereof.  The ‘stock’ which formed the basis of the soup was wholesome and nutritious; the peas were of excellent quality; twopence a quart was the price at which this fluid could be purchased (one penny if a ticket from a member of the committee were presented), and sometimes as much as five hundred quarts would be sold in a day.  Satisfactory enough this.  When the people came with complaints, saying that they were tired of this particular soup, and would like another kind for a change, Mr. and Mrs. Batterby, with perfect understanding of the situation, bade their customers ’take it or leave it—­an’ none o’ your cheek here, or you won’t get nothing at all!’ The result was much good-humour all round.

But the present year saw a change in the constitution of the committee:  two or three philanthropic ladies of great conscientiousness began to inquire busily into the working of the soup-kitchen, and they soon found reason to be altogether dissatisfied with Mr. and Mrs. Batterby.  No, no; these managers were of too coarse a type; they spoke grossly; what possibility of their exerting a humanising influence on the people to whom they dispensed soup?  Soup and refinement must be disseminated at one and the same time, over the same counter.  Mr. and Mrs. Batterby were dismissed, and quite a new order of things began.  Not only were the ladies zealous for a high ideal in the matter of soup-distributing, they also aimed at practical economy in the use of funds.  Having engaged a cook after their own hearts, and acting upon the advice of competent physiologists, they proceeded to make a ‘stock’ out of sheep’s and bullocks’ heads; moreover, they ordered their peas from the City, thus getting them at two shillings a sack less than the price formerly paid by the Batterbys to a dealer in Clerkenwell.  But, alas! these things could not be done secretly; the story leaked out; Shooter’s Gardens and vicinity broke into the most excited feeling.  I need not tell you that the nether world will consume—­