en runnin' about
with no soles to their feet.'

The lemonade--with a dash in it--was brought to her, and she refreshed
herself with a deep draught. Perhaps the dash was not perceptible
enough; she did not seem entirely satisfied, though pretending to be so.

'Suppose I come round to-night and ask her myself?' Daniel said, as the
result of a short reflection.

'It 'ud be kind of you if you would, Mr. Dabbs. I'm afraid she'll tell
me she can't afford to lose the day.'

He consulted his watch, then again reflected, still drumming on the
table.

'All right, we'll go,' he said, rising from his chair.

His coat was hanging on a peg behind the door. He drew it on, and went
to tell the barmaid that he should be absent exactly twenty minutes.
It was Daniel's policy to lead his underlings to expect that he might
return at any moment, though he would probably be away a couple of
hours.

The sisters were now living in a street crossing the angle between
Goswell Road and the City Road. Daniel was not, as a rule, lavish in his
expenditure, but he did not care to walk any distance, and there was no
line of omnibuses available. He took a hansom.

It generally fell to Emma's share to put her sister's children to bed,
for Mrs. Clay was seldom at home in the evening. But for Emma, indeed,
the little ones would have been sadly off for motherly care. Kate had
now and then a fit of maternal zeal, but it usually ended in impatience
and slappings; for the most part she regarded her offspring as
encumbrance, and only drew attention to them when she wished to impress
people with the hardships of her lot. The natural result was that the
boy and girl only knew her as mother by name; they feared her, and would
shrink to Emma's side when Kate began to speak crossly.

All dwelt together in one room, for life was harder than ever. Emma's
illness had been the beginning of a dark and miserable time. Whilst she
was in the hospital her sister took the first steps on the path which
leads to destruction; with scanty employment, much time to kill, never a
sufficiency of food, companions only too like herself in their distaste
for home duties and in the misery of their existence, poor Kate got into
the habit of straying aimlessly about the streets, and, the inevitable
consequence, of seeking warmth and company in the public-house. Her
children lived as the children of such mothers do: they played on the
stairs or on the pavements, had accidents, we