Mrs. Bubb, the landlady, was frying some sausages for her
first-floor lodgers; as usual at this hour she wore (presumably over
some invisible clothing) a large shawl and a petticoat, her thin
hair, black streaked with grey, knotted and pinned into a ball on
the top of her head. Here and there about the kitchen ran four
children, who were snatching a sort of picnic breakfast whilst they
made ready for school. They looked healthy enough, and gabbled,
laughed, sang, without heed to the elder folk. Their mother, healthy
too, and with no ill-natured face-a slow, dull, sluggishly-mirthful
woman of a common London type-heard Moggie out, and shook up the
sausages before replying.

"Never you mind Miss Sparkes; I'll give her a talkin' to when she
comes down. What was it as Mr. Gammon wanted? Breakfast in bed? And
what else? I never see such a girl for forgetting!"

"Well, didn't I tell you as my 'ead had never closed the top!" urged
Moggie in plaintive key. "How can I 'elp myself?"

"Here, take them letters up to him, and ask again; and if Miss
Sparkes says anything don't give her no answer--see? Billy, fill the
big kettle, and put it on before you go. Sally, you ain't a-goin' to
school without brushin' your 'air? Do see after your sister, Janey,
an' don't let her look such a slap-cabbage. Beetrice, stop that
'ollerin'; it fair mismerizes me!"

Having silently thrust five letters under Mr. Gammon's door, Moggie
gave a very soft tap, and half whispered a request that the lodger
would repeat his orders. Mr. Gammon did so with perfect good humour.
As soon as his voice had ceased that of Miss Sparkes sounded from