the morning, felt the hardness of fate in the impossibility of eating
one's cake and having it; she wished she had reserved her new dress,
and had still before her the sensation of a first appearance in it.
With a sigh she put on her ordinary everyday working dress, and
proceeded to get the breakfast ready, for her mother had been out late
the previous night, celebrating the new arrivals in the street, and
had the 'rheumatics' this morning.

'Oo, my 'ead!' she was saying, as she pressed her hands on each side
of her forehead. 'I've got the neuralgy again, wot shall I do? I dunno
'ow it is, but it always comes on Sunday mornings. Oo, an' my
rheumatics, they give me sich a doin' in the night!'

'You'd better go to the 'orspital mother.'

'Not I!' answered the worthy lady, with great decision. 'You 'as a
dozen young chaps messin' you abaht, and lookin' at yer, and then they
tells yer ter leave off beer and spirrits. Well, wot I says, I says I
can't do withaht my glass of beer.' She thumped her pillow to
emphasize the statement.

'Wot with the work I 'ave ter do, lookin' after you and the cookin'
and gettin' everythin' ready and doin' all the 'ouse-work, and goin'
aht charring besides--well, I says, if I don't 'ave a drop of beer, I
says, ter pull me together, I should be under the turf in no time.'

She munched her bread-and-butter and drank her tea.

'When you've done breakfast, Liza,' she said, 'you can give the grate
a cleanin', an' my boots'd do with a bit of polishin'. Mrs. Tike, in