mind.

"'May I write a letter?' she ses, at last.

"'Sartainly,' I ses.

"She got out her pen and ink and paper, and wrote. 'I sha'n't be long,'
she ses, looking up and nibbling 'er pen. 'It's a letter to my
dressmaker; she promised my dress by six o'clock this afternoon, and I
am just writing to tell her that if I don't have it by ten in the
morning she can keep it.'

"'Quite right,' I ses; 'it's the on'y way to get things done.'

"'It's my way,' she ses, sticking the letter in an envelope and licking
it down. 'Nice name, isn't it?'

"She passed it over to me, and I read the name and address: 'Miss Minnie
Miller, 17, John Street, Mile End Road.'

"'That'll wake her up,' She ses, smiling. 'Will you ask Joe to take it
for me?'

"'He--he's on guard,' I ses, smiling back at 'er and shaking my 'ead.

"'I know,' she ses, in a low voice. 'But I don't want any guard--only
you. I don't like guards that peep down skylights.'

"I looked up just in time to see Joe's 'ead disappear. Then I nipped
up, and arter I 'ad told 'im part of wot I thought about 'im I gave 'im