was found dead in her bed.

"Well, that was the end of the happiest time of my life. In a day or
two some relatives came to look after things, and I had to go. They
were kind to me, however; they gave me money, and told me I might
refer to them if I needed to. I came to London, and took a room, and
wondered what I should do.

"I advertised, and answered advertisements, but nothing came. My
money was going, and I should soon be as badly off as ever. I began
to do what I had always thought of as the very last thing, look for
needlework, either for home or in a workroom. I don't know how it is
that I have always hated sewing. For one thing, I really can't sew.
I was never taught as a child, and few girls are as clumsy with a
needle as I am. I've always looked upon a work-girl's life as the
most horrible drudgery; I'd far rather scrub floors. I suppose I've
a rebellious disposition, and just because sewing is looked upon as
a woman's natural slavery, I rebelled against it.

"By this time I was actually starving. I had one day to tell my
landlady I couldn't pay my rent. She was a very decent woman, and
she talked to me in a kind way. What was better, she gave me help.
She had a sister who kept a laundry, and she thought I might perhaps
get something to do there; at all events she would go and see. The
result was I got work. I was in the laundry nearly six months, and
became quite clever in getting up linen. Now this was a kind of work
I liked. You can't think what a pleasure it was to me to see shirts
and collars turning out so spotless and sweet--"

Waymark laughed.