e middle; this concealed the kitchen, whence came clouds of
steam, and the sound of frying, and odours manifold. At the entrance of
a lady--a lady without qualification--such of the feeders as happened
to look from their plates stared in wonderment. It was an embarrassing
position. Mrs. Ormonde walked quickly down the narrow gangway, and to
the door in the partition. A young woman was just coming forth, with
steaming plates on a tray.

'Can I see Mrs. Gandle?' the visitor asked.

The girl cried out: 'Mother, you're wanted!' and pushed past, with
grins bestowed on either side.

Above the partition appeared a face like a harvest moon.

'I have come in reply to your letter,' Mrs. Ormonde said, 'the letter
about the girl who is ill.'

'Oh, you've come, have you, mum!' was the reply, in a voice at once
respectful and surprised. 'Would you be so good as step inside, mum?
Please push the door.'

Mrs. Ormonde was relieved to pass into the privacy of the kitchen. It
was a room of some ten feet square, insufferably hot, very dirty, a
factory for the production of human fodder. On a side table stood a
great red dripping mass, whence Mrs. Gandle severed portions to be
supplied as roast beef. Vessels on the range held a green substance
which was called cabbage, and yellow lumps doled forth as potatoes.
Before the fire, bacon and sausages were frizzling; above it was
spluttering a beef-steak. On a sink in one corner were piled eating
utensils which awaited the wipe of a very loathsome rag hanging hard
by. Other objects lay about in indescribable confusion.

Mrs. Gandle was a very stout woman, with bare arms. She perspired
freely, and was not a little disconcerted by the appearance of her
visitor. Her moon-face had a simple and not disagreeable look.

'You won't mind me a-getting on with my work the whiles I talk, mum?'
she said. 'The men's tied to time, most of em, and I've often lost a
customer by keepin' him waitin'. They're not too sweet-tempered in
these parts. I was born and bred in Peckham myself, and only come here
when I married my second husband, which he's a plumber by trade. I
can't so much as ask you for to sit down, mum. You see, we have to
'conomise room, as my husband says. But I can talk and work, both; only
I've got to keep one ear open--'

A shrill voice cried from the shop:

'Two beefs, 'taters an' greens! One steak-pie, 'taters! Two cups o'
tea!'

'Right!' cried Mrs. Gandle, and proceeded to execute