The high-pitched voices and the clatter of knives and forks allowed a new-comer to enter the kitchen without being immediately observed.  It was a tall girl of interesting and vivacious appearance; she wore a dress of tartan, a very small hat trimmed also with tartan and with a red feather, a tippet of brown fur about her shoulders, and a muff of the same material on one of her hands.  Her figure was admirable; from the crest of her gracefully poised head to the tip of her well-chosen boot she was, in line and structure, the type of mature woman.  Her face, if it did not indicate a mind to match her frame, was at the least sweet-featured and provoking; characterless somewhat, but void of danger-signals; doubtless too good to be merely played with; in any case, very capable of sending a ray, in one moment or another, to the shadowy dreaming-place of graver thoughts.  Alice Maud Mutimer was nineteen.  For two years she had been thus tall, but the grace of her proportions had only of late fully determined itself.  Her work in the City warehouse was unexacting; she had even a faint impress of rose-petal on each cheek, and her eye was excellently clear.  Her lips, unfortunately never quite closed, betrayed faultless teeth.  Her likeness to Richard was noteworthy; beyond question she understood the charm of her presence, and one felt that the consciousness might, in her case, constitute rather a safeguard than otherwise.

She stood with one hand on the door, surveying the table.  When the direction of Mrs. Mutimer’s eyes at length caused Richard and Daniel to turn their heads, Alice nodded to each.

‘What noisy people!  I heard you out in the square.’

She was moving past the table, but Daniel, suddenly backing his chair, intercepted her.  The girl gave him her hand, and, by way of being jocose, he squeezed it so vehemently that she uttered a shrill ‘Oh!’

’Leave go, Mr. Dabbs!  Leave go, I tell you!  How dare you?  I’ll hit you as hard as I can!’

Daniel laughed obstreperously.

‘Do! do!’ he cried.  ’What a mighty blow that ’ud be!  Only the left hand, though.  I shall get over it.’

She wrenched herself away, gave Daniel a smart slap on the back, and ran round to the other side of the table, where she kissed Emma affectionately.

‘How thirsty I am!’ she exclaimed.  ’You haven’t drunk all the beer, I hope.’

‘I’m not so sure of that,’ Dan replied.  ’Why, there ain’t more than ’arf a pint; that’s not much use for a Royal ‘Ighness.’

She poured it into a glass.  Alice reached across the table, raised the glass to her lips, and—­emptied it.  Then she threw off hat, tippet, and gloves, and seated herself But in a moment she was up and at the cupboard.

‘Now, mother, you don’t—­you don’t say as there’s not a pickle!’

Her tone was deeply reproachful.

‘Why, there now,’ replied her mother, laughing; ’I knew what it ’ud be!  I meant to a’ got them last night.  You’ll have to make shift for once.’