was
abundantly aware. A very large proportion of the servant-keeping females
in Brixton, Camberwell, and Peckham could not, with any confidence, buy
a chemise or a pair of stockings; and when it came to garments visible,
they were lost indeed.

Fanny French began to regret that she had not realised her capital, and
put it into the Association. Wishing at length to do so, she met with a
scornful rebuff. Beatrice would have none of her money, but told her she
might use the shop like any other customer, which of course Fanny did.

Mrs. Peachey, meanwhile, kept declaring to both her sisters that they
must not expect to live henceforth in De Crespigny Park on the old
nominal terms. Beatrice was on the way to wealth; Fanny moved in West
End society, under the chaperonage of a rich woman; they ought to be
ashamed of themselves for not volunteering handsome recognition of the
benefits they had received beneath their sister's roof. But neither
Beatrice nor Fanny appeared to see the matter in this light. The truth
was, that they both had in view a change of domicile. The elder desired
more comfort and more independence than De Crespigny Park could afford
her; the younger desired a great many things, and flattered herself that
a very simple step would put her in possession of them.

The master of the house no longer took any interest in the fortunes of
his sisters-in-law. He would not bid them depart, he would not bid them
stay, least of all would he demand money from them. Of money he had no
need, and he was the hapless possessor of a characteristic not to be
found in any other member of his household--natural delicacy.

Arthur Peachey lived only for his child, the little boy, whose newly
prattling tongue made the sole welcome he expected or cared for on his
return from a hard day's work. Happily the child had good health, but
he never left home without dread of perils that might befall it in his
absence. On the mother he counted not at all; a good-tempered cow
might with more confidence have been set to watch over the little one's
safety. The nurse-girl Emma, retained in spite of her mistress's malice,
still seemed to discharge her duties faithfully; but, being mortal, she
demanded intervals of leisure from time to time, and at such seasons,
as Peachey too well knew, the child was uncared for. Had his heart been
resolute as it was tender, he would long ago have carried out a project
which haunted him at every moment of anger