much because they could easily get the things done for less. I asked what
they'd pay, and they said they didn't know but they'd give me as good a
show for work as ever if I cared to take the new prices, because they
felt sorry for the children. I suppose I ought to feel thankful to them."

Nellie looked up now--her face flushed. "Reduce, prices again!" she
cried. "How can they?"

"I don't know how they can, but they can," answered Mrs. Somerville. "I
suppose we can be thankful so long as they don't want to be paid for
letting us work for them. Old Church's daughter got married to some
officer of the fleet last week, I'm told, and I suppose we've got to help
give her a send-off."

"It's shameful," exclaimed Nellie. "What they paid two years ago hardly
kept one alive, and they've reduced twice since then. Oh! They'll all pay
for it some day."

"Let's hope so," said Mrs. Somerville. "Only we'll have to pay them for
it pretty soon, Nellie, or there won't be enough strength left in us to
pay them with. I've got beyond minding anything much, but I would like to
get even with old Church."

They had talked away, the two women, ignoring Ned. He listened. He
understood that from the misery of this woman was drawn the pomp and
pride, the silks and gold and glitter of the society belle, and he
thought with a cruel satisfaction of what might happen to that society
belle if this half-starved woman got hold of her. Measure for measure,
pang for pang, what torture, what insults, what degradation, could atone
for the life that was suffered in this miserable room? And for the life