As the year grew older, it became increasingly necessary for Mavis to discover a place where she might stay during, and for a while after, her confinement.  Mrs Scatchard had told her from the first, that however much she might be disposed to let Mavis remain in the house for this event, Mr Scatchard strongly objected, at his age, to the inconvenience of a baby under the same roof.  Mavis filled many weary hours in dragging herself up and down front-door steps in the quest for accommodation; but she spent her strength in vain.  Directly landladies learned of the uses to which Mavis would put the room she wished to engage, they became resentful, and sullenly told her that they could not accommodate her.  Little as Mavis was disposed to find harbourage for herself and little one in the unhomely places she inspected, she was hurt by the refusals encountered.  It seemed to her that the act of gravely imperilling life in order to confer life was a situation which demanded loving care and devoted attention, necessities she lacked:  the refusal of blowsy landladies to entertain her application hurt her more than the other indignities that she had, so far, been compelled to endure.  One Sunday afternoon Mrs Scatchard brought up the People, in the advertising columns of which was a list of nursing homes.  Mavis eagerly scanned the many particulars set forth, till she decided that “Nurse G.,” who lived at New Cross, made the most seductive offer.  This person advertised a comfortable home to married ladies during and after confinement; skilled care and loving attention were furnished for strictly moderate terms.

Mavis decided to call on Nurse G. the following day.

The atmosphere of the Scatchards’ had recently been highly charged, as if in preparation for an event of moment.  Whenever Mr Scatchard took his walks abroad, he was always accompanied by either his wife or niece, who, when they finally piloted him home, would wear a look of self-conscious triumph.  When Mavis came down to breakfast, before setting out for New Cross, there was a hum of infinite preparation.  Mr Scatchard was greasing his hair; gorgeous raiment was being packed into a bag; the final polish was being given to a silver trumpet.  Both Mrs Scatchard and her niece, besides being cloaked and bonneted, wore an expression of grim resolution.  Mr Scatchard had the look of a hunted animal at bay.  Little was said, but just before Mavis started, Miss Meakin came to her and whispered: 

“Wish us luck, dear.”

“Luck?” queried Mavis.

“Don’t you know of uncle and to-day’s great doings?”

Mavis shook her head.

“Uncle and the King Emperor,” explained Miss Meakin.  “There’s a royal kick up to-day, and uncle and the King Emperor will be there.”

“Have you and your aunt had an invitation too?” asked Mavis mischievously.

“Not into the palace, as you might say.  But we’re both going as far as the gates with uncle, to see he gets there safely and isn’t tempted by the way.”