Mrs. B. is a manager who could be roused at any moment in the night and inform the inquirer exactly what money she had in her purse, and how many teaspoonfuls of tea were left, before she properly opened her eyes. She likes to spend exactly the same sum on exactly the same article, and the same amount of it, every week. Her menus are deplorably monotonous—never a flight into jam, when the cheapest “marge” goes farther! Never an exciting sausage, but always stew of “pieces” on Wednesday and stew warmed up on Thursday. When bread goes up it upsets her very much. It gives her quite a headache trying to take the exact number of farthings out of other items of expenditure without upsetting her balance. She loved keeping accounts. It was a scheme which fell in with the bent of her mind, and, though she is no longer visited, she is believed to keep rigorous accounts still. She and all her family are delicate. Her height is about 5 feet, and when the visitor first saw her, and asked if Mr. B. were a big man, she replied, “Very big, miss—’e’s bigger than me.” She was gentle with children, and liked to explain to a third person their constant and mysterious symptoms. She dressed tidily, if drably, and always wore a little grey tippet or a man’s cap on her head. Mrs. L. is older and larger and more gaunt—a very silent woman. Mr. L. talks immensely, and takes liberties with her which she does not seem to notice. She is gentle and always tidy, always clean, and very depressed in manner. When her baby nearly died with double pneumonia, she sat up night after night, nursed him and did all the work of the house by day, but all she ever said on the subject was, “I’d not like ter lose ’im now.” She looked more gaunt as the days went on, but everything was done as usual. When the baby recovered she made no sign. Before marriage she had been a domestic servant in a West-End club, receiving 14s. a week and all found. Her savings furnished the home and bought clothes for some years. Mrs. S. could tell you a little about Mr. S. if you pressed her. He was a “good ’usbin’,” but not desirable on Saturday nights. She was a worn, thin woman with a dull, slow face, but an extraordinary knack of keeping things clean and getting things cheap. All her bread was fetched by her eldest boy of thirteen from the back door of a big restaurant once a week. It lived in a large bag hung on a nail behind the door, and got very stale towards the end of the week; but it was good bread. She could get about 100 broken rolls for 1s. 9d. When she lost her children she cried a very little, but went about much as usual, saying, if spoken to on the subject, “I done all I could.’ E ’ad everythink done fer ’im,” which was perfectly true as far as she was concerned, and in so far as her means went. She loved her family in a patient, suffering, loyal sort of way which cannot have been very exhilarating for them.