little hands, whose finger-tips
all clustered together (they were now like the hands of a nice, careless
schoolboy), and lightly dusted one against the other. Then she found a
galley-proof under the table. It was a duplicate proof of _The Five
Towns Chronicle's_ leading article, dictated to her by a prodigious
Arthur Dayson, in Mr. Cannon's presence, on the previous day, and
dealing faithfully with "The Calder Street Scandal" and with Mr.
Enville, a member of the Local Board--implicated in the said scandal.
The proof was useless now, for the leader-page was made up.
Nevertheless, Hilda carefully classified it "in case..."

IV

On a chair was _The Daily Telegraph_, which Dayson had evidently been
reading, for it was blue pencilled. Hilda too must read it; her duty was
to read it: Dayson had told her that she ought never to neglect the
chance of reading any newspaper whatever, and that a young woman in her
responsible situation could not possibly know too much. Which advice,
though it came from a person ridiculous to her, seemed sound enough, and
was in fact rather flattering. In the _Telegraph_ she saw, between
Dayson's blue lines, an account of a terrible military disaster. She was
moved by it in different ways. It produced in her a grievous, horror-
struck desolation; but it also gave her an extraordinary sensation of
fervid pleasure. It was an item of news that would have to appear in the
_Chronicle_, and this would mean changes in the make-up, and work at
express speed, and similar delights. Already the paper was supposed to
be on the machine, though in fact, as she well knew, it was not. No
doubt the subject of discussion in the inner room was the disaster!...
Yes, she was acutely and happily excited. And always afterwards, when
she heard or saw the sinister word 'Majuba' (whose political
associations never in the least interested her), she would recall her
contradictory, delicious feelings on that dramatic afternoon.

While she was busily cutting out the news from the _Telegraph_ to be
ready for Arthur Dayson, there was a very timid knock at the door, and
Florrie entered, as into some formidable cabinet of tyrannic rulers.

"If you please, miss--" she began to whisper.

"Why, Florrie," Hilda exclaimed, "what have you put that old skirt on
for, when I've given you mine? I told you--"

"I did put it on, miss. But there came a telegram. I told the boy you
were here, but he said that wasn't no affair of his, s