'No, wot are they?'

'I dunno; I've seen a chap, a big chap with a beard. I think 'e lives
up at the other end.'

She felt herself blushing a little.

'No one any good you be sure,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I can't swaller these
new people as are comin' in; the street ain't wot it was when I fust
come.'

When they had done, Mrs. Kemp got up, and having finished her half-pint
of beer, said to her daughter:

'Put the things awy, Liza. I'm just goin' round to see Mrs. Clayton;
she's just 'ad twins, and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pity
the Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em--thet's wot I say.'

After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went out of the house and turned
into another a few doors up.

Liza did not clear the supper things away as she was told, but opened
the window and drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, looking
out into the street. The sun had set, and it was twilight, the sky was
growing dark, bringing to view the twinkling stars; there was no
breeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully cool. The good folk still
sat at their doorsteps, talking as before on the same inexhaustible
subjects, but a little subdued with the approach of night. The boys
were still playing cricket, but they were mostly at the other end of