ng the way of his father, dead
years before in a drunken frolic; and the income made from the little
shop her mother had opened, to teach him how to make a living, covered
expenses, and not much more. Whatever was done for Nelly must be done by
herself.

The way had opened, or begun to open, at Greenwich. A tall, delicate
girl, who proved to be a milliner's apprentice, had taken a fancy to
her, and given her her first real knowledge of the delights of West End
life. She had nearly ended her apprenticeship, and would soon be a
regular hand; and Nelly listened entranced to the description of
marvellous hats and bonnets, and the people who tried them on, and
looked disgustingly at her own.

"You've got a touch, I know," the new friend said approvingly. "You'd
get on. Isn't there anybody to pay the premium for you?"

Nelly shook her head sorrowfully. "They couldn't do without me," she
said. "There's mother and Jim, that won't try to earn anything, and I
stitch now twelve hours a day. I'm off shirts, and on trousers. Trousers
pay better. I've made eighteen shillings a week sometimes, but you must
keep at it steady ahead for that."

"It's a pity," her companion said reflectively. "You'd learn quick. In
three months you'd be an improver, and begin to earn, and then there's
no knowing where you'd stop. You might get to be owner."

Nelly turned suddenly. She had felt for some time that some one was
listening to them. They were on the boat, sitting on the central seat,
back to back with a row of merry-makers; but this was some one
different.

"I beg your pardon," he said; and Nelly flushed with pleasure at a tone
no one had ever used before. "I have heard a little you were saying. I
am interested in this question of wages, and very anxious to know more
about it. I wish you would tell me what you know about this stitching."

He had come round to their side--a tall blond man of thirty, dressed in
light gray, and a note-book in his hand. He was so serious and gentle
that it was impossible to take offence, and very soon Nelly was telling
him all she knew of prices in cheap clothing of every sort, and how the
workers lived. She hated it all,--the grime and sordidness, the drunken
men and screaming children; and her eyes flashed as she talked of it,
and a flush came to her cheeks.

"You ought to have something better," the young man said presently, his
eyes fixed upon her. "We must try to find something better."

Nelly's com