make fun of her and mock her before a crowd of grinning underlings.
To this day, the sight of a West-end tradesman fills Mavis with
unspeakable loathing; nothing would ever mitigate the horror which
their treatment of her inspired at this period of her life.

Then Mavis, in reply to one of her many answers to advertisements,
received a letter asking her to call at an office in Eastcheap, at a
certain time. Arrived there, she learned how she could earn a pound
a week by canvassing, together with commission, if her sales were
successful. She had eagerly accepted the offer, when she learned
that she was to make house-to-house calls in certain London suburbs
(she was to commence at Peckham), armed with a bottle of pickles and
a bottle of sauce. She was furnished with a Peckham local directory
and was instructed to make calls at every house in her district,
when she was to ask for the mistress by name, in order to disarm
suspicion on the part of whoever might open the door. When she was
asked inside, she was to do her utmost to get orders for the pickles
and the sauce, supplies of which were sent beforehand to a grocer in
the neighbourhood. Mavis did not relish the job, but was driven by
the goad of necessity. On her way home to tell Mrs. Ellis that she
would be leaving immediately to live in Peckham, she slipped on a
piece of banana skin and twisted her ankle, an accident which kept
her indoors for the best part of a week. When she had written to
Eastcheap to say that she was well enough to commence work, she had
received a letter which informed her that her place had been filled.

Now, she was sitting in her little bedroom in Kiva Street, a prey to
despair; she had no one to comfort her, not even Mrs. Ellis, this
person having gone out on a rare visit to an aunt.