bad lot, that one is," declared Emmeline, after a long
unfriendly stare; "'er 'usbind 'ates 'er."

"'E knocks 'er abart," said Bert, with enthusiasm.

"No, 'e don't, cos 'e's dead; she poisoned 'im slow and gradual, so that
nobody didn't know. Now she wants to marry a lord, with 'eaps and 'eaps
of money. 'E's got a wife already, but she's going to poison 'er, too."

"She's a bad lot," said Bert with growing hostility.

"'Er mother 'ates her, and she's afraid of 'er, too, cos she's got a
serkestic tongue; always talking serkesms, she is. She's greedy, too; if
there's fish going, she eats 'er own share and 'er little girl's as well,
though the little girl is dellikit."

"She 'ad a little boy once," said Bert, "but she pushed 'im into the
water when nobody wasn't looking."

"No she didn't," said Emmeline, "she sent 'im away to be kep' by poor
people, so 'er 'usbind wouldn't know where 'e was. They ill-treat 'im
somethink cruel."

"Wot's 'er nime?" asked Bert, thinking that it was time that so
interesting a personality should be labelled.

"'Er nime?" said Emmeline, thinking hard, "'er nime's Morlvera." It was
as near as she could get to the name of an adventuress who figured
prominently in a cinema drama. There was silence for a moment while the
possibilities of the name were turned over in the children's minds.

"Those clothes she's got on ain't paid for, and never won't be," said
Emmeline; "she thinks she'll get the rich lord to pay for 'em, but 'e
won't. 'E's given 'er jools, 'underds of pounds' worth."

"'E won't pay for the clothes," said Bert, with conviction. Evidently
there was some limit to the weak good nature of wealthy lords.

At that moment a motor carriage with liveried servants drew up at the
emporium entrance; a large lady, with a penetrating and rather hurried
manner of talking, stepped out, followed slowly and sulkily by a small
boy, who had a very black scowl on his face and a very white sailor suit
over the rest of him. The lady was continuing an argument which had
probably commenced in Portman Square.

"Now, Victor, you are to come in and buy a nice doll for your cousin
Bertha. She gave you a beautiful box of soldiers on your birthday, and
you must give her a present on hers."

"Bertha is a fat little fool," said Victor, in a voice that was as loud
as his mother's and had more assurance in it.

"Victor, you are not to say such things. Bertha is not a fool, and she
is not in t