"I think so. My name's Bilkins." "Mine is Keeves." "That's a funny name. I 'ope you ain't married." "No." "It's only fools who get married. You jest hear what Mrs Bonus says." "I'm very tired," said Mavis. "Can you give me anything to eat?" "I've nothing in the 'ouse, but I'll get you something when I go out. And, if Mrs Bonus comes, ask her to wait, an' say I've jes gone out to get a little Jacky." Mavis waited in the dark room of the deserted house. Had she not been tired and heartsick, she would have been amused at this strange experience. A quarter of an hour passed without anyone calling, when she heard the sound of a key in the latch, and Mrs Bilkins returned. "No Mrs Bonus?" "No one's been." "It isn't her washing day neither, though it would be late for a lady like 'er to be out all alone. Drink this." "But it's stout," said Mavis, as Mrs Bilkins lit the gas. "I call it jacky. A glass will do you good." Mavis drank some of the liquor and certainly felt the better for it. "I bought you a quarter of German," declared Mrs Bilkins, as she enrolled a paper parcel. "You mean German sausage," said Mavis, as she caught sight of the mottled meat, a commodity which her old friend Mr Siggers sold. "I always call it German," remarked Mrs Bilkins, a trifle huffily. "But what am I to eat it on?" "That is funny. I'm always forgetting," said Mrs Bilkins, as she faded from the room. After some time, she came back with a coarse cloth, a thick plate, a wooden-handled knife, together with a fork made of some pliant material; these she put before Mavis. The coarse food and more of the stout put fresh heart into the girl. She got a room from Mrs Bilkins for six shillings a week, on the understanding that she did not give much trouble. "There's only one thing. I suppose you have a bath of some sort?" said Mavis. "That is funny," said Mrs Bilkins. "I've never been asked such a thing in my life." "Don't you wash?" "In penny pieces; a bit at a time." "But never all over, properly?" "You are funny. Why, three years ago, I had the rheumatics; then I was covered all over with flannel. Now I don't know which is flannel and which is skin." It was arranged, however, that, if Mrs Bilkins could not borrow a bath from a neighbour in the morning, she would bring Mavis her washing-tin, which would answer the same purpose. Mavis slept soundly in a fairly clean room, her wanderings after leaving "Dawes'" having tired her out.