’You’ve taken your time, my lady!  All right! just wait till I’ve ’ad my tea, that’s all!  Me an’ you’ll settle accounts to-night, see if we don’t.  Mother told me as she owed you a lickin’, and I’ll pay it off, with a little on my own account too.  Only wait till I’ve ’ad my tea, that’s all.  What are you standin’ there for, like a fool?  Bring that beer ‘ere, an’ let’s see ‘ow much you’ve drank.’

‘I haven’t put my lips near it, miss; indeed I haven’t,’ pleaded the child, whose face of dread proved both natural timidity and the constant apprehension of ill-usage.

‘Little liar! that’s what you always was, an’ always will be.—­ Take that!’

The speaker was a girl of sixteen, tall, rather bony, rudely handsome; the hand with which she struck was large and coarse-fibred, the muscles that impelled it vigorous.  Her dress was that of a work-girl, unsubstantial, ill-fitting, but of ambitious cut; her hair was very abundant, and rose upon the back of her head in thick coils, an elegant fringe depending in front.  The fire had made her face scarlet, and in the lamplight her large eyes glistened with many joys.

First and foremost, Miss Clementina Peckover rejoiced because she had left work much earlier than usual, and was about to enjoy what she would have described as a ‘blow out.’  Secondly, she rejoiced because her mother, the landlady of the house, was absent for the night, and consequently she would exercise sole authority over the domestic slave, Jane Snowdon—­that is to say, would indulge to the uttermost her instincts of cruelty in tormenting a defenceless creature.  Finally—­a cause of happiness antecedent to the others, but less vivid in her mind at this moment—­in the next room lay awaiting burial the corpse of Mrs. Peckover’s mother-in-law, whose death six days ago had plunged mother and daughter into profound delight, partly because they were relieved at length from making a pretence of humanity to a bed-ridden old woman, partly owing to the fact that the deceased had left behind her a sum of seventy-five pounds, exclusive of moneys due from a burial-club.

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Miss Peckover (who was affectionately known to her intimates as ’Clem’), as she watched Jane stagger back from the blow, and hide her face in silent endurance of pain.  ’That’s just a morsel to stay your appetite, my lady!  You didn’t expect me back ‘ome at this time, did you?  You thought as you was goin’ to have the kitchen to yourself when mother went.  Ha ha! ho ho!—­These sausages is done; now you clean that fryin’-pan; and if I can find a speck of dirt in it as big as ’arlf a farden, I’ll take you by the ’air of the ‘ed an’ clean it with your face, that’s what I’ll do I Understand?  Oh, I mean what I say, my lady!  Me an’ you’s a-goin’ to spend a evenin’ together, there’s no two ways about that.  Ho ho! he he!’