Bush, a depressing, blind little street, at the end of which was a
hoarding; this latter shut off a view of a seemingly boundless
brickfield. Miss Nippett rented a top back room at number 19, where,
on one Sunday afternoon, Mavis, being previously invited, went to
tea. The little room was neat and clean; tea, a substantial meal,
was served on the big black box which stood at the foot of Miss
Nippett's bed. After tea, Miss Nippett showed, with much pride, her
little treasures, which were chiefly pitiful odds and ends picked up
upon infrequent excursions to Isle of Thanet watering-places. Her
devotion to these brought a lump to Mavis's throat. After the girl
had inspected and admired these household gods, she was taken to the
window, in order to see the view, now lit by a brilliant full moon.
Mavis looked over a desert of waste land and brickfield to a
hideous, forbidding-looking structure in the distance.

"Ain't it beautiful?" asked Miss Nippett.

"Y--yes," assented Mavis.

"Almost as good as reel country."

"Almost."

"Why, I declare, you can see the 'Scrubbs': you are in luck to-day."

"What's the 'Scrubbs'?"

"The 'Scrubbs' prison. Oh, I say, you are ignorant!"

"I'm afraid I am," sighed Mavis.