"You can make up your mind to be careful," said Miss Summers. "It's not the first man who makes the best husband." Sally crouched in her place. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt as though she were suffocating. Miss Summers could not appreciate the effect of her words, because she had gone back again to the subject of Nancy and her married shopwalker. "You ought to have _seen_ that child's work to-day!" "Perhaps she's going to have a baby?" suggested Sally. It gave Miss Summers a great shock. "Oh! D'you think so?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide open with horror. "Oh, no!" "You'd have thought they were all going to have 'em, the way the girls all looked and acted this morning. They were all potty. Silly fools." Miss Summers gave a sigh of relief, and then she laughed a little. "We were all rather grumpy this morning," she admitted. "It's the weather. Always upsets people. Doctor Johnson said it didn't." "Who's he? Doctors don't know anything at all. Only take advantage of other people's ignorance. They frighten people, you know, looking wise, and making you put out your tongue, and all." "I don't know what we should do without them," sighed Miss Summers. "Of course, there's always the patent medicines; but I never found anything that cured my indigestion." "Only chewing prop'ly," grimly suggested Sally. Miss Summers abruptly rolled up her work at this unsympathetic remark, and took off her pinafore. She stood uncertainly by the window. "I've been keeping you," she said. "But I _am_ worried about that child. I do hope she hasn't been silly. At her age they've got no sense at all. They can't see an inch before their nose. You coming now, Sally? All right, slam the door after you.... Don't stay too late." Ten minutes afterwards Miss Summers had gone. Sally waited a little while, to give her time to reach the street and remember anything that might bring her back. Then, very quietly, she took off her own pinafore, and stole across the room and listened at Gaga's door. She could hear nothing. Sharply, she tapped, and listened again. "Come in!" said a voice. Sally opened the door, standing there in her grey dress, with her hair brilliant, and her whole face smiling. And Gaga, looking up from his work, saw her thus as a vision, a happy vision for tired eyes. He smiled in return and Sally advanced, without any shyness or assumed shyness, into the room. "Wondered if you were here," she said cheerfully. "Everybody else has gone. Miss Summers and all. I'm working on something. Oo, hasn't it been a day! The girls all had the fidgets. I've been quite ill all day." "Ill?" demanded Gaga. "Not ... not really ill? Oh, I'm.... I'm so sorry. Poor Sally!" "Headache," mentioned Sally, rather lugubriously, so as to encourage his pity. "Headache? Oh, poor little girl! So have I." Sally gave a little laugh. It contained all sorts of provocative shades of meaning. "Hn," she said. "Funny us _both_ having headaches. You still got yours?"