'At a draper's in Walworth Road. She is worked to death. Every week
I see a difference in her, poor child. We hoped to persuade her to
go back to the shop at Weston; but if this you speak of were
possible--how _much_ better! We have never reconciled ourselves to
her being in that position--never.'

'I see no harm in the position itself,' replied Miss Nunn in her
rather blunt tone, 'but I see a great deal in those outrageous
hours. She won't easily do better in London, without special
qualifications; and probably she is reluctant to go back to the
country.'

'Yes, she is; very reluctant.'

'I understand it,' said the other, with a nod. 'Will you ask her to
come and see me?'

A servant entered with tea. Miss Nunn caught the expression in her
visitor's eyes, and said cheerfully--

'I had no midday meal to-day, and really I feel the omission. Mary,
please do put tea in the dining-room, and bring up some meat--Miss
Barfoot,' she added, in explanation to Virginia, is out of town, and
I am a shockingly irregular person about meals. I am sure you will
sit down with me?'

Virginia sported with the subject. Months of miserable eating and
drinking in her stuffy bedroom made an invitation such as this a
veritable delight to her. Seated in the dining-room, she at first