to married ladies during and after
confinement; skilled care and loving attention were furnished for
strictly moderate terms.

Mavis decided to call on Nurse G. the following day.

The atmosphere of the Scatchards' had recently been highly charged, as
if in preparation for an event of moment. Whenever Mr Scatchard took
his walks abroad, he was always accompanied by either his wife or
niece, who, when they finally piloted him home, would wear a look of
self-conscious triumph. When Mavis came down to breakfast, before
setting out for New Cross, there was a hum of infinite preparation. Mr
Scatchard was greasing his hair; gorgeous raiment was being packed into
a bag; the final polish was being given to a silver trumpet. Both Mrs
Scatchard and her niece, besides being cloaked and bonneted, wore an
expression of grim resolution. Mr Scatchard had the look of a hunted
animal at bay. Little was said, but just before Mavis started, Miss
Meakin came to her and whispered:

"Wish us luck, dear."

"Luck?" queried Mavis.

"Don't you know of uncle and to-day's great doings?"

Mavis shook her head.

"Uncle and the King Emperor," explained Miss Meakin. "There's a royal
kick up to-day, and uncle and the King Emperor will be there."

"Have you and your aunt had an invitation too?" asked Mavis
mischievously.

"Not into the palace, as you might say. But we're both going as far as
the gates with uncle, to see he gets there safely and isn't tempted by
the way."

Soon after, Mr Scatchard left with the two women, looking, for all the
world, like a prisoner in charge of lynx-eyed warders. Then Mavis made
the long and tiring journey to New Cross. Nurse G. had advertised her
nursing home as being at No. 9 Durley Road. This latter she found to be
a depressing little thoroughfare of two-storeyed houses, all exactly
alike. She could discover nothing particularly inviting in the outside
appearance of No. 9. Soiled, worn, cotton lace curtains hung behind not
over-clean windows; behind these again were dusty, carefully closed
Venetian blinds. Mavis passed and repassed the house, uncertain whether
or not to call. Before deciding which to do, she made a mental
calculation (she was always doing this now) of exactly how much she
would have left after being paid by Mr Poulter and settling up with Mrs
Scatchard. As before, she reckoned to have exactly seven pounds fifteen
shillings. She had no intention of asking Perigal for help, as in his
last