LEAD
I'll let you in," said Polly Myatt.
She led the way to the adjoining house, turned the key, and
threw the door open.
"We just keep the key hard by to save trouble," she said. "But
you must apply to Butcher & Co. for terms and take. This is
an end house, and there was a bit of space not to be had for the
others, so they gave a passage with a stair in it. But you'll
have to pay extra for that—I bet my bones, old Butcher will
frank you if he can."
Joan went over the little house. It needed whitewashing and
fresh papering in the parlour or front kitchen, but when
furnished it would serve.
"I shall take it," she said.
"Well, I'm glad to have you come by us," said Polly. "Now
you'll be wanting beds and chairs and other sticks. Shall you go
on the hire system or buy right out?"
"I shall buy."
"It is best in the end. I've nothing particular to do, so I'll
go with you and show you where you can buy cheap. How much brass
shall you spend?"
"At the outset no more than is absolutely necessary. I can add
more furniture after I have found work."
"That's right—come now along with me into No. 17 and take a
snapping. I've got the kettle on the hob, but I ain't got no
milk."
"I shall be happy, and much obliged to you."
"Oh, there's no call for that. You'll have to pay Butcher
& Co. a month in advance. They are not trusting
innocents."
Joan followed her new acquaintance into No. 17. Along with
freedom of speech and bluntness of manner, there was no little
kindliness in the pale, red-haired girl. If the difference in the
way in which she was addressed and treated startled Joan, it did
not disconcert her. She knew that the manner in which she would
be treated must be in accordance with that in which she met
little advances made to her, and answered such as questioned her. She was wholly prepared to do her utmost to gain the good opinion of those with whom she was likely to be associated. There was a crispness in the social atmosphere that she felt was stimulating, and there was the novelty of new acquaintanceship that was interesting.
"Now you just turn this over. A hint is as good as a blow to a
wise horse. If I was you and loved a quiet sleep and pleasant
dreams, I would not take the front bedroom over the passage. There's a four and half brick and no more between that room and the chamber mother and father have in our house. You see father has the ovens to fire, and it's hot and trying work, tending the fires. It's not always, but just off and on, that father comes home the worse for liquor. He's lively then, and mother she lays on with her tongue, and he answers, and there's pretty games I can tell you. Well—it's p'r'aps amusing for the first hour, but you get stalled the second, and the third you'll be swearing at 'em through the four and half wall. Father's a tidy old chap in general. But we've all our little failings, and that's just what makes the difference between us and the angels."
"I cannot understand," said Joan, as she sat over the fire
sipping tea, that was mainly tannin, so long had the pot been
stewing on the hob, "I cannot understand why you are allowed to
poison yourself. The manufacturers should not suffer it."
"Bless your boots! the thing has to be done, and someone must
do it. The public will have their ware glazed and coloured, and
there is now quite a run on majolica, which is worse than all. We
must find them what they demand. If we do not the Germans will do
so."
"But are not means taken to prevent these consequences?"