She entered, to see Miss Nippett half rising from a chair before the fire. She was startled by the great change which had taken place in the accompanist's appearance since she had last seen her. She looked many years older; her figure was quite bent; the familiar shawl was too ample for the narrow, stooping shoulders. "Aren't you well?" asked Mavis, as she kissed her friend's cheek. "Quite. Reely I am but for a slight cold. Mr Poulter, 'e's well too. Fancy you married!" "Yes," said Mavis sadly. But Miss Nippett took no notice of her dejection. "I've never 'ad time to get married, there's so much to do at 'Poulter's.' You know! Still, there's no knowing." Mavis, distressed as she was, could hardly restrain a smile. "I've news too," went on Miss Nippett. "Have you?" asked Mavis, who was burning to get to the reason of her call. "Ain't you heard of it?" "I can't say I have." By way of explanation, Miss Nippett handed Mavis one of a pile of prospectuses at her elbow; she at once recognised the familiar pamphlet that extolled Mr Poulter's wares. "See! 'E's got my name on the 'pectus. 'All particulars from Poulter's or Miss Nippett, 19 Blomfield Road, W.' Isn't that something to talk about and think over?" Mavis hastily assented; she was about to ask for Miss Meakin's address, but Miss Nippett was too quick for her. "D'ye think he'll win?" "Who?" "Mr Poulter, of course. 'Aven't you 'eard?" "Tell me." "Oh, I say, you are ignorant! He's competing for the great cotillion prize competition. I thought everybody knew about it." "I think I've heard something. But could you tell me Miss Meakin's address?" "11 Baynham Street, North Kensington, near Uxbridge Road station," Miss Nippett informed Mavis, after referring to an exercise book, to add: "This is the dooplicate register of 'Poulter's.' I always keep it here in case the other should get lost. Mr. Poulter, like all them great men, is that careless." "Come again soon," said Miss Nippett, as Mavis rose to go. Mavis promised that she would. "How long have you been married?" "Not long. Three months." "Any baby?" "After three months!" blushed Mavis. "Working so at 'Poulter's' makes one forget them things. No offence," apologised Miss Nippett. "Good-bye. I'll look in again soon." "If you 'ave any babies, see they're taught dancing at 'Poulter's.'"