"No, sir?" she replied, in a non-committal interrogative tone of voice, which implied, though it left unspoken, the question, "Now I wonder what in the world he wants?" "It's this way," I went on. "I have been reading in my paper (I live in quite another part of London, by the bye) that there are hundreds, thousands even, of women and children starving out this way. Well, now, I don't accept for gospel truth everything I read in the papers, but it seemed to me that if I came out for myself to a place like Shadwell, found a poor street like this, and made my way to the nearest shop--which happens to be yours--anyone like yourself could tell me something of the real facts of the case. It seems to me, too, that if you would be so good as to help me--which I'm sure you will--you could put me in the way of getting at the genuine, the deserving cases. I mean the cases which, perhaps because the people in question don't attend any particular church, and so, not having their names on the visiting list, get overlooked by the clergy and ministers who are doing such splendid work; as well as the cases where, perhaps because of a pride, to which I take off my hat, the sufferers can't humble themselves to beg or to apply for parish relief. "Understand me, please. I don't come from any newspaper. I'm not working in connection with any charity, or any church, and I haven't very much money to spend. But if women and children are really starving, as I read in the newspapers, I want to do what little I can to help. Do you know of any such cases?" "The last customer I served before you came in, sir, was a woman," she made answer. "I served her with a farthing's-worth of bread. That's all she and her three children have for to-day." The unemotional, matter-of-fact way in which she spoke was infinitely more significant than if she had put the point of exclamation to her statement by any melodramatic show of feeling, any play of features, or gestures of hands. "But such cases are not common!" I protested. "No," she said dully. "They're not. It's much commoner not to have the farthing's-worth of bread." "Would you mind giving me that poor woman's name and address? I pledge you my word," I added, perhaps unnecessarily, "that I'll say no word to hurt her pride or wound her feelings." "18, Cripps Court," was the reply; "and her name's Frost. But there's five families living in the house, most of 'em in one room, and two of them are Frost. The one you want is Mrs. Fred Frost." "Thank you very much. It is very good of you to take this trouble," I said. "Are there any other cases equally bad that you know? If so, I'd be grateful to be told of them."