Directly Osborn had gone I suddenly thought--and I got in a
charwoman. She's there now. It did seem queer."

"Oh, that's good, my love. I _am_ glad of that. Now you'll rest
yourself and get your looks back, and I shall be round a great deal to
help you with the children."

"I want to ask you to do something for me to-day, mother."

"Certainly, my love. Just name it."

"I--I want a free day. To go into town and lunch and walk about by
myself; no household shopping to do; no time to keep; no cooking to
hurry back for...."

"What a funny idea, duck!" replied Grannie, still carefully keeping up
the attitude of old dunderhead; "but I'm sure I'll be only too
delighted to go back home with you, and take the children out on the
Heath this afternoon. And I'll put them to bed, too. You'll help me
with these very little children, won't you, Georgie?"

"'Ess, G'annie," replied George importantly.

"Mummie needn't hurry back, need she, Georgie?"

"She tan 'tay out all night," replied George, showing a generous
breadth of mind.

Grannie and mother both laughed heartily.

"I'll run and put on my things at once," said Mrs. Amber, transferring
the baby to Marie's lap, "and I'll go back with you now. I'm an idle
old woman with nothing to do, and it will be a delight to me to take
the children out."

They trundled the grey baby-carriage back across the Heath, and toiled
up the stone staircase of Welham Mansions to Number Thirty. All the
windows of the flat were opened; it looked almost fresh and bright
once more; and a charwoman of stout build was dealing competently with
the few remaining jobs. Marie paid her; instructed her to return
to-morrow, and went to make herself ready for town.

She left home again at twelve-thirty, taking with her a replenished
purse, and a stock of tremluous emotions. One was of dreadful
solitude, a fear of loneliness, spineless and enervating; another of
defiance; another of excitement; another of bravado; another almost of
shame.

What should she, an old married woman with a family of three, want
with a purposeless jaunt to town? Since the birth of George she had
never done such a thing. She had never spent money on amusing herself,
on passing an agreeable time.

It was almost as if, directly her husband, the master of her life and
her children's lives, turned his back, she filled her purse from the
store he had left behind him, and went off frivolling.

"I do not care!" she said to hersel