house.

    I do not knos,   lunatics.

    co the woman.

    o see your face, so see if you turned out her.

    I y mot t; and am hem.

    topped before a door. handsome is as hand-

    some does, s died. to be yours.

    Sakes me into to t joins it. ttle as if battered by fists. t is er noo ttle fire—I am too small to see my face in tand and shiver.

    S your mittens, says ter sakes my cloak from me, t ug all you like, s s you, it s  a business to see you neat, after t say. Notle girl lift up s and piddle?

    Scs a cloter and washes my face and hands.

    I sa. Sefuller t teac house of yours?

    I long for my little oo, and knoruggle and limp. At lengteps from me and wipes her hands.

    Lord, hink hell make a lady of you.

    I dont  to be a lady! I say. My uncle cannot make me.

    I s e youve made us.

    tifled ringing of a bell, times. It is a clock; I understand it, o to t told tics to rise, to dress, to say to take think,

    No as before. Even tcs ired. Again my boots catcs. alk softly! says the woman in a whisper, pinching my arm. heres your uncles room, look.

    Sakes me in.  put on ter sun striking t strangely. t t is t suitable for ted; and t is pink. I suppose all printed o be true ones.

    ts me very near tands at my back, s surface is  cap assel on a fraying ther, paler, pair of coloured glasses.

    So, miss, epping toiles? he asks her.

    Rather ill, sir.

    I can see it, in her eye. here