''E ain't wot I thought 'e wos,' she said. 'I don't mind sayin' thet; but 'e 'as a lot ter put up with; I expect I'm rather tryin' sometimes, an' 'e means well. P'raps 'e'll be kinder like when the biby's born.' 'Cheer up, old gal,' answered Liza, who had seen something of the lives of many married couples; 'it won't seem so bad after yer gets used to it; it's a bit disappointin' at fust, but yer gits not ter mind it.' After a little Sally said she must go and see about her husband's tea. She said good-bye, and then rather awkwardly: 'Say, Liza, tike care of yerself!' 'Tike care of meself--why?' asked Liza, in surprise. 'Yer know wot I mean.' 'Na, I'm darned if I do.' 'Thet there Mrs. Blakeston, she's lookin' aht for you.' 'Mrs. Blakeston!' Liza was startled. 'Yus; she says she's goin' ter give you somethin' if she can git 'old on yer. I should advise yer ter tike care.' 'Me?' said Liza. Sally looked away, so as not to see the other's face. 'She says as 'ow yer've been messin' abaht with 'er old man.' Liza didn't say anything, and Sally, repeating her good-bye, slid off. Liza felt a chill run through her. She had several times noticed a scowl and a look of anger on Mrs. Blakeston's face, and she had avoided her as much as possible; but she had no idea that the woman meant to do anything to her. She was very frightened, a cold sweat broke out over her face. If Mrs. Blakeston got hold of her she would be helpless, she was so small and weak, while the other was strong and muscular. Liza wondered what she would do if she did catch her. That night she told Jim, and tried to make a joke of it. 'I say, Jim, your missus--she says she's goin' ter give me socks if she catches me.' 'My missus! 'Ow d'yer know?' 'She's been tellin' people in the street.' 'Go' lumme,' said Jim, furious, 'if she dares ter touch a 'air of your 'ead, swop me dicky I'll give 'er sich a 'idin' as she never 'ad before! By God, give me the chanst, an' I would let 'er 'ave it; I'm bloomin' well sick of 'er sulks!' He clenched his fist as he spoke. Liza was a coward. She could not help thinking of her enemy's threat; it got on her nerves, and she hardly dared go out for fear of meeting her; she would look nervously in front of her, quickly turning round if she saw in the distance anyone resembling Mrs. Blakeston. She dreamed of her at night; she saw the big, powerful form, the heavy, frowning face, and the curiously braided brown hair; and she would wake up with a cry and find herself bathed in sweat.