"Now, Alfred," she said to her eldest boy, "it's time I got to my work,
and it won't do for you to start gettin' 'ungry again after yer teas. So
you put yerself and Lizzie to bed, and I'll make a race of it with Hen
and the baby."

"There now," she said when the race was over, "that's what's called a
dead 'eat, and that's a way of winnin' as saves the expense of givin' a
prize."

With complete disregard for the theorising of science, she then stuck
the poker up in front of the bars to keep the fire bright.

"Now, Alfred," she said, "you mind out for baby cryin', and if she
should 'appen to want for anythink, just give a call to Mrs. Thomas
through the next door."

"Right you are," said Alfred, feeling as important as a 'bus conductor.

Mrs. Reeve hurried towards the City to her work. Office cleaning was the
first thing that had offered itself, and she could arrange the hours so
as to look after the children between whiles. Late at night and again
early in the morning she was in the offices, and she earned a fraction
over twopence an hour.

"You're not seemin' exackly saloobrious to-night, my dear," said the old
woman who had lately come to the same staircase, as they began to scour
the stone with whitening. "I do 'ope 'e ain't been layin' 'is 'and on
yer."