ot to obscure
"Turpsichor" in the background.

Mavis travelled by the Underground to Shepherd's Bush, from where it
was only five minutes' walk to Miss Nippett's. The whole way down, she
was so dazed by her loss that she could give no thought to anything
else. The calamities that now threatened her were infinitely more
menacing than before her precious bag had been stolen. It seemed as if
man and circumstance had conspired for her undoing. Her suspense of
mind was such that it seemed long hours before she knocked at the
blistered door in the Blomfield Road where Miss Nippett lived.

Miss Nippett was in, she learned from the red-nosed, chilblain-fingered
slut who opened the door.

"What nyme?"

"Mrs Kenrick, who was Miss Keeves," replied Mavis.

"Will you go up?" said the slut when, a few minutes later, she came
downstairs.

Mavis went upstairs, past the cupboard containing Miss Nippett's
collection of unclaimed "overs," to the door directly beyond.

"Come in" cried a well-remembered voice, as Mavis knocked.

She entered, to see Miss Nippett half rising from a chair before the
fire. She was startled by the great change which had taken place in the
accompanist's appearance since she had last seen her. She looked many
years older; her figure was quite bent; the familiar shawl was too
ample for the narrow, stooping shoulders.

"Aren't you well?" asked Mavis, as she kissed her friend's cheek.

"Quite. Reely I am but for a slight cold. Mr Poulter, 'e's well too.
Fancy you married!"

"Yes," said Mavis sadly.

But Miss Nippett took no notice of her dejection.

"I've never 'ad time to get married, there's so much to do at
'Poulter's.' You know! Still, there's no knowing."

Mavis, distressed as she was, could hardly restrain a smile.

"I've news too," went on Miss Nippett.

"Have you?" asked Mavis, who was burning to get to the reason of her
call.

"Ain't you heard of it?"

"I can't say I have."

By way of explanation, Miss Nippett handed Mavis one of a pile of
prospectuses at her elbow; she at once recognised the familiar pamphlet
that extolled Mr Poulter's wares.

"See! 'E's got my name on the 'pectus. 'All particulars from Poulter's
or Miss Nippett, 19 Blomfield Road, W.' Isn't that something to talk
about and think over?"

Mavis hastily assented; she was about to ask for Miss Meakin's address,
but Miss Nippett was too quick for her.

"D'ye think he'll win?"

"Who?"

"Mr Poulter, of course