"Why, to be sure I am. I shouldn't get along in this world if I wasn't in good work. And you'll be busy too I take it before you've had time to turn round. What do you mean to do, my dear?" Meg looked hopeless. "I can't think. I'm not fitted for service. I only wish I was. But I don't know the commonest things. I can only sing, and I should be frightened to sing in London streets now. My courage is all gone. I shouldn't have had a fear two years ago." "It'll come back," said Mrs. Webb, cheerfully. "But I tell you what. I wonder if you'd mind giving your room a scrub to-day? It ought to have been done, but this last week I've been away. I'd be ever so grateful if you would." "I'll do the best I can," said Meg. "But I must look for another room too. I can't let you sleep to-night in here." "Tut, tut, my dear. Don't you worry about that. And, by the bye, I've got good news. The lady upstairs is leaving I hear, so you can get a room in this house if you've a mind to. It would be nicer for you than to be among strangers." Meg felt thankful. She had been dreading finding a room for herself and clung to this woman who had befriended her as her one safeguard against all the horrors of London. So when Mrs. Webb had left, leaving Willie in her charge, Meg set to work to scrub, but never having been taught housework of any kind she found it wearisome and difficult, and moreover grudged working in this way as she was wearing her one and only dress. Mrs. Webb came home to find the floor of the bedroom wringing wet and with little chance of its drying in the damp weather. "You've used too much water," she said. "It'll take long to dry I fear. But you don't know no better, poor dear, so don't worry." "I only wish I'd been taught useful things," sighed Meg, "besides reading and writing. I was only taught to sing." "Aye, it's a pity," answered Mrs. Webb. "I don't hold with all that they teach in the schools neither. The piano I believe, and drawing and such like; what have we got to do with them things. What the children want to learn is to scrub and dust and sew. I don't hold with the edication now-a-days." "Anyhow I can read," said Meg. "I could teach Willie his letters if you like." "That would be real kind of you. But my dear you mustn't sit at home all day. Willie can go along with you and show you the shops in Oxford Street and Regent Street. He knows the way well enough. And this evening I mean to go to our Rector and tell him about your voice." But though Mrs. Webb managed to get the Rector's sympathy for Meg without any difficulty, and he arranged for her to sing at the next parish meeting, Meg could not fulfil her engagement. The confinement, close air, and poor food had upset her, and she lay sick for many a day greatly to the poor little widow's concern.