'Well 'tisn't exactly that, but--well, I prefer to tell you the truth;
'tisn't the piece I go to the theatre for; I'm one of the dressers, and I
get twelve shillings a week, and I can't afford to lose it. But there's no
use in telling Mrs. Ede, she'd only make a bother.'

'How do you mean, dressing?'

'The ladies of the theatre must have someone to dress them, and I look
after the principals, Miss Leslie and Miss Beaumont, that's all.'

'And how long have you been doing that?'

'Why, about a month now. Bill got me the place.'

This conversation had broken in upon a silence of nearly half an hour; with
bent heads and clicking needles, Kate and Hender had been working
assiduously at Mrs. Barnes's skirt.

Having a great deal of _passementerie_ ornamentation to sew on to the
heading of the flounces, and much fringe to arrange round the edge of the
drapery, Kate looked forward to a heavy day. She had expected Miss Hender
an hour earlier, and she had not turned up until after nine. An assistant
whose time was so occupied that she couldn't give an extra hour when you
were in a difficulty was of very little use; and it might be as well to
look out for somebody more suitable. Besides, all this talk about theatres
and actors was very wrong; there could be little doubt that the girl was
losing her character, and to have her coming about the house would give it
a bad name. Such were Kate's reflections as she handled the rustling silk
and folded it into large plaitings. Now and again she tried to come to a