the war over a cup of tea. The criminal, who is the hostess, calls it a
dish of tea, which shows that she comes from Caledonia; but that is not
her crime.

They are all London charwomen, but three of them, including the hostess,
are what are called professionally 'charwomen _and_' or simply
'ands.' An 'and' is also a caretaker when required; her name is entered
as such in ink in a registry book, financial transactions take place
across a counter between her and the registrar, and altogether she is of
a very different social status from one who, like Mrs. Haggerty, is a
charwoman but nothing else. Mrs. Haggerty, though present, is not at the
party by invitation; having seen Mrs. Dowey buying the winkles, she
followed her downstairs, so has shuffled into the play and sat down in
it against our wish. We would remove her by force, or at least print her
name in small letters, were it not that she takes offence very readily
and says that nobody respects her. So, as you have slipped in, you sit
there, Mrs. Haggerty; but keep quiet.

There is nothing doing at present in the caretaking way for Mrs. Dowey,
our hostess; but this does not damp her, caretaking being only to such
as she an extra financially and a halo socially. If she had the honour
of being served with an income-tax paper she would probably fill in one
of the nasty little compartments with the words, 'Trade--charring;
Profession (if any)--caretaking.' This home of hers (from which, to look
after your house, she makes occasionally temporary departures in great
style, escorting a barrow) is in one of those what-care-I streets that
you discover only when you have lost your way; on discovering them, your
duty is to report them to the authorities, who immediately add them to
the map of London. That is why we are now reporting Friday Street. We
shall call it, in the rough sketch drawn for to-morrow's press, 'Street