She learned how Mr Poulter had been happily married, although childless; also, that his wife had died of a chill caught by walking home, insufficiently clad, from an “All Night” in bleak weather.  For all the pain that her absence caused in his life, he looked bravely, confidently forward (sometimes with tears in his eyes) to when they should meet again, this time never to part.  When the evenings were fine, Mr Poulter would take Miss Nippett and Mavis for a ride on a tram car, returning in time for the night classes.  Upon one of these excursions, someone in the tram car pointed out Mr Poulter to a friend in the hearing of the dancing-master; this was enough to make Mr Poulter radiantly happy for the best part of two days, much to Mavis’s delight.

Another human trait in the proprietor of “Poulter’s” was that he was insensible to Miss Nippett’s loyalty to the academy, he taking her devotion as a matter of course.

Miss Nippett and Mavis, also, became friends; the latter was moved by the touching faith which the shrivelled-up little accompanist had in the academy, its future, and, above all, its proprietor.  If the rivalry between “Poulter’s” and “Gellybrand’s” could have been decided by an appeal to force, Miss Nippett would have been found in the van of “Poulter’s” adherents, firmly imbued with the righteousness of her cause.  She lived in Blomfield Road, Shepherd’s Bush, a depressing, blind little street, at the end of which was a hoarding; this latter shut off a view of a seemingly boundless brickfield.  Miss Nippett rented a top back room at number 19, where, on one Sunday afternoon, Mavis, being previously invited, went to tea.  The little room was neat and clean; tea, a substantial meal, was served on the big black box which stood at the foot of Miss Nippett’s bed.  After tea, Miss Nippett showed, with much pride, her little treasures, which were chiefly pitiful odds and ends picked up upon infrequent excursions to Isle of Thanet watering-places.  Her devotion to these brought a lump to Mavis’s throat.  After the girl had inspected and admired these household gods, she was taken to the window, in order to see the view, now lit by a brilliant full moon.  Mavis looked over a desert of waste land and brickfield to a hideous, forbidding-looking structure in the distance.

“Ain’t it beautiful?” asked Miss Nippett.

“Y—­yes,” assented Mavis.

“Almost as good as reel country.”

“Almost.”

“Why, I declare, you can see the ‘Scrubbs’:  you are in luck to-day.”

“What’s the ’Scrubbs’?”

“The ‘Scrubbs’ prison.  Oh, I say, you are ignorant!”

“I’m afraid I am,” sighed Mavis.

“It ain’t often you can see the ‘Scrubbs’ at this time of year ’cause of the fog,” remarked Miss Nippett, whose eyes were still glued to the window.

Presently, when she drew the curtains, she looked contentedly round the little room before saying: