ter Winifred's your _sister_ now, is she?' (turning to me).
'A few minutes ago she was your sweet'airt: an' now she seems to ha'
bin your sister. An' she was _your_ sister, too, was she?' (turning
to Sinfi). 'Well, all I know is, that she was my darter, Winifred
Gudgeon, as is dead, an' buried in the New North Cemetery, pore dear;
an' yet she was sister to both on ye!'

She then buried her face again in the pillows and resumed the rocking
movement, shrieking between her peals of laughter: 'Well, if I'm the
mother of a six-fut Gypsy gal an' a black-eyed chap as seems jest
atween a Gypsy and a Christian, I never knowed _that_ afore. No, I
never knowed _that_ afore! I allus said I should die a-larfin', an'
so I shall; I'm a-dyin' now--ha! ha! ha!'

She fell back upon the pillow, exhausted by her own cruel merriment.

'She always said she'd die a-larfin', an' she will, too--more nor I
shall ever do,' said the girl, after we had gone downstairs.

'Did you notice what she said about Winnie a-callin' her Knocker?'
said Sinfi.

'Yes, and couldn't understand it.'

'_I_ know what it meant. Winnie knowed all about the Knockers of
Snowdon, the dwarfs o' the copper mine, and this woman, bein' so
thick and short, must look ezackly like a Knocker, I should say, if
you could see one.'

I said to the girl, 'Was she really kind to--to--'

'To her you were asking about,--the Essex Street Beauty? I should
think she just was. She's a drinker, is poor Meg, and drinking in
Primrose Court means starvation. Meg and the Beauty were often short
enough of grub, but, drunk or sober, Meg would never touch a mouthful
till the Beauty had had her fill. I noticed it many a time--not a
mouthful. When Meg was obliged to send her into the streets to sell
things she was always afraid that the Beauty might come to harm
through the toffs and the chaps. The toffs were the worst looking
after her--as they mostly are--so I was always watching her in the
day-time, and at night Meg was always watching her, and that was what
made me know your face, as soon as ever I clapt eyes on it.'

'Why, what do you mean?'

'Well, one rainy night when I was standing by the theatre door, I
heard a toff ask a policeman about the Essex Street Beauty, and I
thought I knew what that meant very well. So I ran off to find Meg. I
had seen her watching the Beauty all the time. But lo and behold! Meg
was gone and the Beauty too. So I run across here, and found Meg and
the Be