"Perhaps that gold edging would look handsomer," proceeded the old lady, assailed by sudden doubts. "Oh, yes, it might," said the companion hastily, adapting her tone. "You are looking at the wrong one," said the old lady bluntly. "It isn't likely I should put a four-three edging on my best satin between-wrap." Then she veered round and saw me. Naturally I expected something very cutting, the more so that a kindly supporter threw me a shilling just then from the top of an omnibus, and a money-box not being so handy as a tambourine, I spent the next few seconds grovelling in the snow at the lady's feet. When I came up again, successful but apprehensive, I found her smiling blandly. "If I were ten years younger I should be out in the street fighting with you," was the astonishing remark that accompanied a handsome donation to the war chest. "Do come, all the same," I urged, caught by the lightning gleam in her little grey eye. But she shook her head and returned to the jet and the gold edging--a wicked waste of a warlike grey eye! So the week drew to an end, and I was no longer to be numbered among those who are passed by at the edge of the pavement. In my foolishness I thought it would be easy to remain on friendly terms with my fellow-hawkers of yesterday; and with that idea in my mind I took an early opportunity of returning to the spot and buying a halfpenny pink paper and a penny white paper and a blue air-ball and a bunch of daffodils. I met with a chilly civility from them all, with the exception of the flower lady, who shamelessly overcharged me for the daffodils. "Yes, lady, they are dear this morning; cost me that in the market, they did--thank you, lady, much obliged, I'm sure. Yes, it is cold for a body, sitting out here all day." That was all--from the friend and sister who had almost offered me her shawl, a week ago, because she saw me shivering. The sun was shining, and the snow had gone, and I suppose the patch of sky at the western end of the street was all right. But I had been put back in my place as a passer-by; and neither sun nor sky belonged to me any longer. V The Conversion of Penelope's Mother