"It's just as good as it was the day I had it out o' Jellico's pack," said Mrs. Reed, sadly subdued, as of late she had always seemed. Mr. Figg held up the gown to the light, seeking for the parts in it most likely to be worn. "Look here," said he. "What d'ye call that?" There was a little fraying certainly in places. Mrs. Reed had eyes and could see it. She did not answer. "It don't stand to reason as a gownd will wear for ever and show no marks. You puts this here gownd in of a Wednesday morning, or so, and gets it out of a Saturday night to wear Sundays. Wear and tear _is_ wear and tear." Mrs. Reed could not deny the accusation. All the available articles her home contained; that is, the few her husband was not likely to observe the absence of; together with as much of her own wardrobe as she could by any shift do without, were already on a visit to Mr. Figg; which visit, according to the present look-out, promised to be permanent. This gown was obliged to be taken out periodically. Had she not appeared decent on Sundays, her husband would have demanded the reason why. "You've gave me six shillings on it before," she argued. "Can't again. Don't mind lending five; next week it'll be but four. It wasn't never worth more nor ten new," added Mr. Figg loudly, to drown remonstrances. "Why, I gave Jellico double that for it! Where's the use of you running things down?" As Jellico was in one sense a friend of Mr. Figg's--for he was certainly the cause of three parts of his pledges being brought to him--the pawnbroker let the question pass. Mrs. Reed went home with her five shillings, her eyes taking quite a wild look of distress and glancing cornerwise on all sides, as if she feared an ambush. It had not been a favourable year; weather had been bad, strikes were prevalent, money was dear, labour scarce. Men were ready to snatch the work out of each other's hands; some were quite unemployed, others less than they used to be. Of course the homes in Piefinch Cut, and similar small homes not in the Cut, went on short-commons. And if the women had been scarcely able to get on before and stave off exposure, any one may see that that was a feat impracticable now. One of them, Hester Reed, thought the doubt and difficulty and remorse and dread would kill her.