hinking of my child and the
danger of its being homeless, I asked what the amount of the fine would
probably be, and being told ten-and-six, I gave the money, though it was
nearly all I had in the world.

I paid for my weakness, though, and have reason to remember it.

The extortions of the Olivers had brought me to so narrow a margin
between my earnings and expenses that I lay awake nearly all that night
thinking what I could do to increase the one or reduce the other. The
only thing I found possible was to change to cheaper quarters. So next
morning, with a rather heavy heart, I asked Mrs. Abramovitch if the room
at the back of the house was still empty, and hearing that it was I
moved into it the same day.

That was a small and not a very wise economy.

My new room was cheerless as well as dark, with no sights but the
clothes that were drying from the pulley-lines and no sounds but the
whoops of the boys of the neighbourhood playing at "Red Indians" on the
top of the yard walls.

But it was about the same as the other in size and furniture, and after
I had decorated it with my few treasures--the Reverend Mother's rosary,
which I hung on the head of the bed, and my darling mother's miniature,
which I pinned up over the fire--I thought it looked bright and
homelike.

All this time, too, I was between the nether and the upper mill-stone.

My employer, the Jew (though he must have seen that I was sweating
myself much more than the law would have allowed him to sweat me), could
not forgive himself when he found that I was earning more by "piece"
than he would have had to pay me by the day, or resist the temptation to
square accounts with me at the earliest possible opportunity.

Unfortunately, his opportunity came only too quickly, and it led
(however indirectly) to the most startling fact that has ever, perhaps,
entered into a woman's life.

I had not been more than three months at the Jew's house when the Jewish
festivals came round--New Year's Day, the Day of Atonement, and the
Feast of Tabernacles--which, falling near together and occupying many
days, disturbed his own habits of work entirely.

One of the tasks he reserved for himself was that of taking the best
paid of his "best-bespoke" back to the large shops in the West End, and
waiting for the return orders. But finding that the festivals interfered
with these journeys, he decided that they should be made by me, who was
supposed to know the West End (