'Leave off!' shouted the woman. Jim looked up. ''Oo the devil are you?' he said. 'Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed of yerself, knockin' a woman abaht like that?' And she sprang at him, seizing his fist. 'Let go,' he said, 'or I'll give you a bit.' 'Yer'd better not touch me,' she said. 'Yer dirty coward! Why, look at 'er, she's almost senseless.' Jim stopped and gazed at his wife. He got up and gave her a kick. 'Git up!' he said; but she remained huddled up on the floor, moaning feebly. The woman from downstairs went on her knees and took her head in her arms. 'Never mind, Mrs. Blakeston. 'E's not goin' ter touch yer. 'Ere, drink this little drop of water.' Then turning to Jim, with infinite disdain: 'Yer dirty blackguard, you! If I was a man I'd give you something for this.' Jim put on his hat and went out, slamming the door, while the woman shouted after him: 'Good riddance!' * * * * * 'Lord love yer,' said Mrs. Kemp, 'wot is the matter?' She had just come in, and opening the door had started back in surprise at seeing Liza on the bed, all tears. Liza made no answer, but cried as if her heart were breaking. Mrs. Kemp went up to her and tried to look at her face. 'Don't cry, dearie; tell us wot it is.' Liza sat up and dried her eyes. 'I am so un'appy!' 'Wot 'ave yer been doin' ter yer fice? My!' 'Nothin'.' 'Garn! Yer can't 'ave got a fice like thet all by itself.' 'I 'ad a bit of a scrimmage with a woman dahn the street,' sobbed out Liza. 'She 'as give yer a doin'; an' yer all upset--an' look at yer eye! I brought in a little bit of stike for ter-morrer's dinner; you just cut a bit off an' put it over yer optic, that'll soon put it right. I always used ter do thet myself when me an' your poor father 'ad words.' 'Oh, I'm all over in a tremble, an' my 'ead, oo, my 'ead does feel bad!' 'I know wot yer want,' remarked Mrs. Kemp, nodding her head, 'an' it so 'appens as I've got the very thing with me.' She pulled a medicine bottle out of her pocket, and taking out the cork smelt it. 'Thet's good stuff, none of your firewater or your methylated spirit. I don't often indulge in sich things, but when I do I likes to 'ave the best.' She handed the bottle to Liza, who took a mouthful and gave it her back; she had a drink herself, and smacked her lips. Thet's good stuff. 'Ave a drop more.' 'Na,' said Liza, 'I ain't used ter drinkin' spirits.' She felt dull and miserable, and a heavy pain throbbed through her head. If she could only forget! 'Na, I know you're not, but, bless your soul, thet won' 'urt yer. It'll do you no end of good. Why, often when I've been feelin' thet done up thet I didn't know wot ter do with myself, I've just 'ad a little drop of whisky or gin--I'm not partic'ler wot spirit it is--an' it's pulled me up wonderful.' Liza took another sip, a slightly longer one; it burnt as it went down her throat, and sent through her a feeling of comfortable warmth.