and yet--perhaps she might as well.
He talked of going up the river to Battersea Park, as the weather was
so fine.

So at three on Saturday, Totty stood by the landing-stage at Lambeth.
In fact, she was there at least five minutes before the appointed time.
But her punctuality was wasted. Ten minutes past three by Lambeth
parish church, and no Mr. Ackroyd.

'Well, I call this nice!' Totty exclaimed to herself. 'Let him come now
if he likes; he won't find _me_ waiting for him. And a lot I care!'

She went off humming a tune and swinging her hands. On the Embankment
she met a girl she knew. They went on into Westminster Bridge Road, and
there came across another friend. It was decided that they should all
go and have tea at Totty's. And before they reached Newport Street, yet
another friend joined them. The more the merrier! Totty delighted in
packing her tiny room as full as it would hold. She ran into Mrs.
Bower's for a pot of jam. Who more mirthful now than Totty Nancarrow!

With subdued gossip and laughter all ran up the narrow staircase and
into Totty's room. A fire had first of all to be lit; Totty was a deft
hand at that; not a girl in Lambeth could start a blaze and have her
kettle boiling in sharper time on a cold dark morning. But, after all,
there would not be bread enough. Tilly Roach would be off for that.
'Mind you bring the over-weight!' the others screamed after her, and
some current joke seemed to be involved in the injunction, for at once
they all laughed as only work-girls can.

Tilly was back in no time. She was a little, slim girl, with the palest
and shortest of gold hair, and a pretty face spoilt with freckles. As
at all times, she had her pocket full of sweets, and ate them
incessantly. As a rule, Tilly cannot have eaten less than a couple of
pounds of lollipops every week, and doubtless would have consumed more
had her pocket-money allowed it. The second of Totty's guests was Annie
West, whom you know already, for she was at the 'friendly lead' when
Thyrza sang; she was something of a scapegrace, constantly laughed in a
shrill note, and occasionally had to be called to order. The third was
a Mrs. Allchin, aged fifteen, a married woman of two months' date; her
hair was cut across her forehead, she wore large eardrops, and over her
jacket hung a necklace with a silver locket. Mrs. Allchin, called by
her intimates 'Loo,' had the air of importance which became her
position.

There were only tw