But Peggy felt overwhelmed with shame and confusion. "I 'spect I was dreamin', Aunt. Leastways you'd think so—I was—I was playin' at bein' a servant." She made her confession in a contrite tone. "Little fool!" said her aunt, but she turned over in her bed and went to sleep again, and Peggy did not stir till a clock outside struck seven, and then with a sigh she got out of bed, and carefully secreted her bit of glass and her cap under her mattress. It was her only hiding-place, and had held many a queer assortment of articles from time to time. When she was dressed, she went out to get a 'ha'poth' of milk for breakfast, and this was the time that she took to pass through a quiet, respectable street, not very far away, where servant-girls were to be seen cleaning the doorsteps. This street—Nelson Street by name—had a fascination for her; she took great note of the different caps and aprons worn, and occasionally was fortunate enough to exchange words with some of these envied young people. To-day she addressed a new-comer on the doorstep of No. 6. Peggy had seen a good many fresh girls on these particular doorsteps; some of them had stayed a few weeks, others for a few days. She always knew the fresh arrivals by the cleanliness of their gowns and the tidiness of their hair; but this new-comer seemed a shade fresher and cleaner than any she had yet seen. She had red hair and rosy cheeks, and her gown was nearer Mrs. Creek's pattern lilac one than any Peggy had noted. "You're new," asserted Peggy, as she came to a standstill. The girl turned and looked at her. "Who are you?" She did not say it rudely, but with curiosity. Peggy had had many a snub from those servant-girls; few of them would deign to notice her, so she was quite prepared to be ignored. "Oh," she said, looking at her questioner going admiringly, "I'm going into a place one day, and I comes and looks along this street, and wonders which house I'd like to be in. Who lives in yours? Any one beside the lady that scolds?" "That be my missus right enough, for I only come in day 'for yesterday, and never have done nothin' right since. There be two gentlemen lodgers, and one first-floor lady that teaches music." "Oh," sighed Peggy, depositing her small milk jug on the step, and placing her arms akimbo. "If only I could get into service, I'd be real happy." "I live down in Kent," explained the red-haired girl. "But the country is too quiet, I want London; and so I've come up to my uncle's step-sister." "But the best places must be in the country," said Peggy. "I'd a deal rather live out o' London. 'Tis so much cleaner for yer caps and aprons—Mrs. Creak says so." "You are a queer one," said the red-haired girl, staring at her. Then a voice from an open window called to her— "Liza, Liza! Come this minute!" She darted indoors with pail and broom. Peggy walked on. "No," she said; "I won't take Liza's place, not if I know it!" She went into Mrs. Creak's little shop soon again.