Next morning on her way to the factory Liza came up with Sally. They were both of them rather stale and bedraggled after the day's outing; their fringes were ragged and untidily straying over their foreheads, their back hair, carelessly tied in a loose knot, fell over their necks and threatened completely to come down. Liza had not had time to put her hat on, and was holding it in her hand. Sally's was pinned on sideways, and she had to bash it down on her head every now and then to prevent its coming off. Cinderella herself was not more transformed than they were; but Cinderella even in her rags was virtuously tidy and patched up, while Sally had a great tear in her shabby dress, and Liza's stockings were falling over her boots. 'Wot cheer, Sal!' said Liza, when she caught her up. 'Oh, I 'ave got sich a 'ead on me this mornin'!' she remarked, turning round a pale face: heavily lined under the eyes. 'I don't feel too chirpy neither,' said Liza, sympathetically. 'I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer,' added Sally, as a pang shot through her head. 'Oh, you'll be arright in a bit,' said Liza. Just then they heard the clock strike eight, and they began to run so that they might not miss getting their tokens and thereby their day's pay; they turned into the street at the end of which was the factory, and saw half a hundred women running like themselves to get in before it was too late. All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and-alive sort of fashion, her head like a piece of lead with electric shocks going through it when she moved, and her tongue and mouth hot and dry. At last lunch-time came. 'Come on, Sal,' said Liza, 'I'm goin' to 'ave a glass o' bitter. I can't stand this no longer.' So they entered the public-house opposite, and in one draught finished their pots. Liza gave a long sigh of relief. 'That bucks you up, don't it?' 'I was dry! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave I? 'E got it aht last night.' 'Who d'yer mean?' 'Why, 'Arry. 'E spit it aht at last.' 'Arst yer ter nime the day?' said Liza, smiling. 'Thet's it.' 'And did yer?' 'Didn't I jest!' answered Sally, with some emphasis. 'I always told yer I'd git off before you.' 'Yus!' said Liza, thinking. 'Yer know, Liza, you'd better tike Tom; 'e ain't a bad sort.' She was quite patronizing. 'I'm goin' ter tike 'oo I like; an' it ain't nobody's business but mine.' 'Arright, Liza, don't get shirty over it; I don't mean no offence.' 'What d'yer say it for then?' 'Well, I thought as seeing as yer'd gone aht with 'im yesterday thet yer meant ter after all.' ''E wanted ter tike me; I didn't arsk 'im.' 'Well, I didn't arsk my 'Arry, either.' 'I never said yer did,' replied Liza. 'Oh, you've got the 'ump, you 'ave!' finished Sally, rather angrily.