tractive smile. She found him looking at
herself with a pair of large soft brown eyes, like chocolate which has
been in a warm place. It was a rather dumb look. A little nick came
between Sally's brows. She was busy making an inventory of the young man
visitor's traits, his features, his clothes. He dressed well, and he was
not bad-looking. With more stamina he might have been almost handsome;
but he was obviously not in good health. The stoop, the vagueness of all
his movements, his soft eye, all betokened as much. Sally turned to
Muriel Barrett, who worked next to her.

"Who's he?" she asked, indicating the stranger.

"That's Bertram ... Madame's son. Mr. Merrick, his real name is. But we
call him Gaga."

"Wodjer call him that for?" asked Sally. "Isn't he right in his head?"

"Oo, well one of the gels--she's gone now, Mary Smith,--made it up. She
said he was Mr. Gala, you know. Then she called him Bertie Gaga, for
fun; and it got to Gaga. I never spoken to him, so I don't know. Look
out, he's looking at us. Oo, I believe he's got a crush on you, Sally."

Presently the young man followed his mother out of the room, and there
was a little buzz when they were gone. The girls leaned together, and
whispered, laughing among themselves. Muriel Barrett turned again to
Sally, and became confidential. She herself was a pink, snub-nosed
blonde, with untidy hair, who was always sniffing over her work. She
jerked her head at Rose Anstey, the tall dark girl whom Sally had
noticed when first she came.

"Rose thought he was in love with her once," Muriel said. "Well, he was,
a bit; but not as much as she thought. I mean, he used to look at her,
and all that, but he never give her anything, or took her out. I think
... you know ... she's a bit struck on him. That's more like it. She
thinks he's a very tall handsome man. Well, he's not my taste. Funny, if
you're tall, I s'pose you want a tall man to fall in love with you. It's
different, being small, I suppose. My Elf's only about inch taller than
me. You can't hardly see there's any difference between us. If I've got
my hair frizzed he looks...."

Muriel went on talking. Sally took a glance at Rose, who, with eyes
downcast, was sewing rapidly. Sally wished she had known that about Rose
and Gaga while he was in the room: then she would have been able to look
at Rose and make up her mind about that affair. She did not suppose
really that there was anything in it, either way. Muri