musty smell, as if no fresh air ever got into it.  Totty’s chamber was a poor, bare little retreat, with low, cracked, grimy ceiling, and one scrap of carpet on the floor, just by the diminutive bed.  On a table lay the provisions she had that afternoon brought in from Mrs. Bower’s.  On the mantel-piece was a small card, whereon was printed an announcement of the friendly lead; at the bead stood the name of a public-house, with that of its proprietor; then followed:  ’A meeting will take place at the above on Saturday evening, August 2, for the benefit of Bill Mennie, the well-known barber of George Street, who has been laid up through breaking of his leg, and is quite unable to follow his employment at present.  We the undersigned, knowing him to be thoroughly respected and a good supporter of these meetings, they trust you will come forward on this occasion, and give him that support he so richly deserve, this being his first appeal.—­Chairman:—­Count Bismark.  Vice:—­Dick Perkins.  Assisted by’ (here was a long list, mostly of nicknames) ’Little Arthur, Flash Bob, Young Brummy, Lardy, Bumper, Old Tacks, Jo at Thomson’s, Short-pipe Tommy, Boy Dick, Chaffy Sam Coppock,’ and others equally suggestive.

Whilst Thyrza perused this, Totty was singing a merry song.

‘I’ve had ten shillin’s sent me to-day,’ she said.

‘Who by?’

’An old uncle of mine, ’cause it’s my birthday to-morrow.  He’s a rum old fellow.  About two years ago he came and asked me if I’d go and live with him and my aunt, and be made a lady of.  Honest, he did!  He keeps a shop in Tottenham Court Road.  He and father ’d quarrelled, and he never come near when father died, and I had to look out for myself.  Now, he’d like to make a lady of me; he’ll wait a long time till he gets the chance!’

‘But wouldn’t it be nice, Totty?’ Thyrza asked, doubtfully.

‘I’d sooner live in my own way, thank you.  Fancy me havin’ to sit proper at a table, afraid to eat an’ drink!  What’s the use o’ livin’, if you don’t enjoy yourself?’

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the appearance of Annie West, a less wholesome-looking girl than Totty, but equally vivacious.

‘Well, will you come to the “Prince Albert,” Thyrza?’ Totty asked.

‘I can’t stay long,’ was the answer; ’but I’ll go for a little while.’

The house of entertainment was at no great distance.  They passed through the bar and up into a room on the first floor, where a miscellaneous assembly was just gathering.  Down the middle was a long table, with benches beside it, and a round-backed chair at each end; other seats were ranged along the walls.  At the upper end of the room an arrangement of dirty red hangings—­in the form of a canopy, surmounted by a lion and unicorn, of pasteboard—­showed that festive meetings were regularly held here.  Round about were pictures of hunting incidents, of racehorses, of politicians and pugilists, interspersed with advertisements of beverages.  A piano occupied one corner.