down the winnings. When Mavis became more used to the vagaries of
their instrumental playing, she was amused at the way in which they
combined business with diversion. Mr Baffy, also, interested her; he
still continued to stare before him, as he played with watery,
purposeless eyes, and with mouth agape.

Halfway through the programme, there was an interval for
refreshments. Mavis was conducted by Mr Poulter to a table set apart
for the artistes in the room in which the lightest of light
refreshments were served to his patrons.

Mavis sat down to a plateful of what looked uncommonly like her old
friend, brisket of beef; she was now so hungry that she was glad to
get anything so substantial.

"'Ow are you gettin' on?" asked a familiar voice over her shoulder.

Mavis looked up, to see Miss Nippett, who had discarded her cap and
apron; she was now in her usual rusty frock, with her shawl upon her
narrow, stooping shoulders.

"All right, thank you. Why don't you have some?"

"No, thank you. I can't spare the time. I'm 'light refreshments.'"

"But they're all eaten!" remarked Mavis, as her eye ranged along a
length of table-cloth innocent of food or decoration.

"'Poulter's' ain't such a fool as to stick nothink out; it would all
be 'wolfed' in a second. Let 'em ask."