Miss Nippett led the way to the landing immediately outside her
door, where she unlocked a roomy cupboard, crammed to its utmost
capacity with odds and ends of cheap feminine adornment. Mangy
evening boas, flimsy wraps, down-at-heel dancing shoes,
handkerchiefs, gloves, powder puffs, and odd bits of ribbon were
jumbled together in heaped disorder.

"D'ye know what they is?" asked Miss Nippett.

"Give it up," replied Mavis.

"They're the 'overs.'"

"What on earth's that?"

"Oh, I say, you are ignorant; reelly you are. 'Overs' is what's left
and unclaimed at 'Poulter's.'"

"Really?"

"They're my 'perk,'" which last word Mavis took to be an
abbreviation of perquisite.

Mavis looked curiously at the heap of forgotten finery: had she
lately lived among more prosperous surroundings, she might have
glanced contemptuously at this collection of tawdry flummery; but,
if her sordid struggles to make both ends meet had taught her
nothing else, they had given her a keen sympathy for all forms of
endeavour, however humble, to escape, if only for a crowded hour,
from the debasing round of uncongenial toil. Consequently, she