One day, when passing down a well-known street in north London, she perceived a notice in a dress and milliner’s shop window stating that young girls were much needed as junior assistants. She therefore went in to make inquiries, and found that if she liked to go there and sew from morning to night she would receive in payment a couple of meals a day and eighteenpence a week. It would be impossible for her to be lodged also, the manageress said, as they had as many hands living in as they had beds for. Plenty of girls were to be had for that trifling wage, as they went there to get an insight into the business, hoping to pass on to better work and higher wages in due course. As it was impossible for Doris to pay for a bedroom out of such a wage she was compelled to decline the work; and as the weeks passed by and nothing better turned up she at last found herself in a pawn shop, trying to raise a little money on her watch and chain, and undergoing a truly humiliating experience. The day came, only too soon, when Doris was obliged to confess to her landlady that she could no longer pay for her week’s lodging in advance. By that time, however, Mrs. Austin had conceived a real attachment to her young lady lodger. When, therefore, Doris stated her sad case, with tears in her eyes, the good woman’s heart was touched. "Now don’t you take on about that, miss, don’t!" she cried. "I shall not ask you for any more money till I am obliged, miss. I know you will pay me when you can." "You may be quite sure I shall do that," said Doris. "I am only too distressed at the idea of your having to wait for the money." Mrs. Austin went out of the room, to return, however, in a few minutes with what she thought might be a "helpful suggestion." "If you can paint, miss," she said, "perhaps they may be willing to sell your pictures at some of the picture shops." Doris’s face brightened. Her little water-colour and oil paintings had been very much admired at home. But she sighed the next moment, as she said gently, "I have no paints here, or brushes, or canvas, or anything!" "I have thought of that," said Mrs. Austin cheerfully. "Just you come upstairs with me." She led the way up the narrow stairs to the back bedroom where she slept, and pointed to a chest of drawers with no little pride. "My Sam made that," she said, "when he was a joiner and cabinet maker, before he took to cab driving, which I wish sometimes he had not done. For it’s a life of temptation. The fares so often give drinks to cabmen--’specially on cold nights. Sam says it’s almost impossible sometimes to keep from taking too much; and his wife has cried more than once because he has come home ’with three sheets in the wind,’ as they call it. And he’s reckoned a sober man, for he’s that naturally, only he lives in the way of temptation. But now, look here, miss!"