th a face like that
you'll make twenty-five bob in tips by the time we've been on for a
month.' She looked again at Victoria not unkindly.

'Tips,' said Victoria reflectively. Awful. But after all, what did it
matter.

'All right,' she said, 'put me down.'

The girl took her name and address. 'Half-past eight sharp on Monday,'
she said. ''cos it's opening day. Usual time half-past nine, off at four
two days a week. Other days seven. Nine o'clock mid and end.'

Victoria stared a little. This was a business woman.

'Sorry,' said the girl, 'must leave you. Got a lot more to do to-day. My
name's Laura. It'll have to be Lottie though. Nothing like Lottie to
make fellows remember you.'

'Remember you?' asked Victoria puzzled.

'Lord, yes, how you going to make your station if they don't remember
you?' said Lottie snappishly. 'You'll learn right enough. You let 'em
call you Vic. Tell 'em to. You'll be all right. And get yourself a black
business dress. We supply pink caps and aprons; charge you sixpence a
week for washing. You get a black openwork blouse, mind you, with short
sleeves. Nothing like it to make your station.'

'What's a station?' asked Victoria, more bewildered than ever.

'My, you _are_ a green 'un! A station's your tables. Five you get. We'll
cut 'em down when they begin to come in. What you've got to do is to pal
up with the fellows; then they'll stick to you, see? Regulars is what
you want. The sort that give no trouble 'cos you know their orders right
off and leave their twopence like clockwork, see? But never you mind:
you'll learn.' Thereupon Lottie tactfully pushed Victoria towards the
door.

Victoria stepped past the cleaner, who was now washing the entrance.
Nothing could be seen of her save her back heaving a little in a filthy
blue bodice and her hands, large, red, ribbed with flowing rivulets of
black dirt and water. As her left hand swung to and fro, Victoria saw
upon the middle finger the golden strangle of a wedding ring deep in the
red cavity of the swollen flesh.

CHAPTER XIV

'YOU come back with me, Vic, don't you?'

'You silly,' said Victoria, witheringly, 'I don't go off to-day, Gertie,
worse luck.'

'Worse luck! I don't think,' cried Gertie. 'I'll swap with you, if you
like. As if yer didn't know it's settling day. Why there's two and a
kick in it!'

'Shut it,' remarked a fat, dark girl, placidly helping herself to
potatoes, 'some people make a sight too much out