“You a lady—­you—!” began the sufferer’s ministering angel.  She got no further, being checked by her friend casting a significant glance in Mavis’s direction.

Half an hour later, Mavis fell asleep.  It was a strange experience when, the next morning, she had to wash and dress with three other girls doing the same thing in the little space at their disposal.

She had asked if there were any chance of getting a bath, to be surprised at the astonished looks on the faces of the others.  At a quarter to eight, they scurried down to breakfast, at which meal Miss Striem presided, as at supper.

Breakfast consisted of thick bread, salt butter, and the cheapest of cheap tea.  It was as much as Mavis could do to get any of it down, although she was hungry.  She could not help noticing that she was the object of much remark to the other girls present, her words with Miss Striem on the previous evening having attracted much attention.  After breakfast, Mavis was taken upstairs to the department in which she was to work.  It was on the roomy ground floor, for which she was thankful; she was also pleased that the girl selected to instruct her in her duties was her Browning friend of last night.  Her work was not arduous, and Mavis enjoyed the handling of dainty things; but she soon became tired of standing, at which she sat on one of the seats provided by Act of Parliament to rest the limbs of weary shop assistants.

“You mustn’t do that!” urged Miss Meakin.

“Why not?”

“You’ll get yourself disliked if you do.”

“What are they here for, if not to sit on?”

“They have to be there; but you won’t be here long if you’re seen using them, ’cept when the Government inspector is about.”

“It’s cruel, unfair,” began Mavis, but her friend merely shrugged her shoulders as she moved away to wait on a customer.

Mavis was disposed to rebel against the unwritten rule that seats are not to be made use of, but a moment’s reflection convinced her of the unwisdom of such a proceeding.

Later on in the morning, Miss Meakin said to Mavis: 

“I hear you had a dust up with old Striem last night.”

Mavis told her the circumstances.

“She’s an awful beast and makes no end of money out of the catering.  But no one dare say anything, as she’s a relation of one of the directors.  All the young ladies are talking of your standing up to her.”

“I suppose she’ll report me,” remarked Mavis.

“She daren’t; she’s too keen on a good thing; but I’ll bet she has her knife into you if she gets a chance.”

Presently, Miss Meakin got confidential; she told Mavis how she was engaged to be married; also, that she met her “boy” by chance at a public library, where they both asked the librarian for Browning at the same time, and that this had brought them together.

The girls went down to dinner in two batches.  When it was time for Mavis to go (she was in the second lot), she was weary with exhaustion; the continued standing, the absence of fresh air, her poor breakfast, all conspired to cause her mental and physical distress.