Then she looked up and down the Westminster Bridge Road to see if he was in view. 'Suppose 'e don't turn up! I will give it 'im when 'e comes for keepin' me witin' like this.' 'Why, there's a quarter of an hour yet,' said Liza, who saw nothing at all to get excited about. At last Sally saw her lover, and rushed off to meet him. Liza was left alone, rather disconsolate at all this bustle and preparation. She was not sorry that she had refused Tom's invitation, but she did wish that she had conscientiously been able to accept it. Sally and her friend came up; attired in his Sunday best, he was a fit match for his lady-love--he wore a shirt and collar, unusual luxuries--and be carried under his arm a concertina to make things merry on the way. 'Ain't you goin', Liza?' he asked in surprise at seeing her without a hat and with her apron on. 'Na,' said Sally, 'ain't she a soft? Tom said 'e'd tike 'er, an' she wouldn't.' 'Well, I'm dashed!' Then they climbed the ladder and took their seats, so that Liza was left alone again. More people had come along, and the brake was nearly full. Liza knew them all, but they were too busy taking their places to talk to her. At last Tom came. He saw her standing there and went up to her. 'Won't yer change yer mind, Liza, an' come along with us?' 'Na, Tom, I told yer I wouldn't--it's not right like.' She felt she must repeat that to herself often. 'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you,' he said. 'Well, I can't 'elp it!' she answered, somewhat sullenly. At that moment a man came out of the public-house with a horn in his hand; her heart gave a great jump, for if there was anything she adored it was to drive along to the tootling of a horn. She really felt it was very hard lines that she must stay at home when all these people were going to have such a fine time; and they were all so merry, and she could picture to herself so well the delights of the drive and the picnic. She felt very much inclined to cry. But she mustn't go, and she wouldn't go: she repeated that to herself twice as the trumpeter gave a preliminary tootle. Two more people hurried along, and when they came near Liza saw that they were Jim Blakeston and a woman whom she supposed to be his wife. 'Are you comin', Liza?' Jim said to her. 'No,' she answered. 'I didn't know you was goin'.' 'I wish you was comin',' he replied, 'we shall 'ave a game.' She could only just keep back the sobs; she so wished she were going. It did seem hard that she must remain behind; and all because she wasn't going to marry Tom. After all, she didn't see why that should prevent her; there really was no need to refuse for that. She began to think she had acted foolishly: it didn't do anyone any good that she refused to go out with Tom, and no one thought it anything specially fine that she should renounce her pleasure. Sally merely thought her a fool.