It became a regular feature of her afternoon visit at the publishers' for Mr. Collins to encourage her with prophecies of good fortune; and her anxiety was frequently assuaged by his consideration. On the first few occasions when she returned with her notes of "Out; Out; Doesn't need it; Never reads; Too busy to look," etc., she dreaded the additional chagrin of being rebuked for incompetence; but Mr. Collins was always complaisant, and perpetually assured her that she was enduring only the disappointments inevitable to a beginner. In his own mind he began to doubt her fitness for the occupation, but he liked her, and knowing that, in the trade phrase, some orders "booked themselves," he was willing to afford her the chance of making a trifle as long as she desired to avail herself of it. They were terrible days to Mary Brettan, wearing away without result, while her pitiful store of cash grew less and less; and since each day was so drearily long, it was amazing that a week passed so quickly. This is an anomaly especially conspicuous to lodgers, and when her bill was due again she beheld her landlady with despair. "Mrs. Shuttle worth," she said, "I have done nothing; I hoped to pay you, and I can't. I'm not a cheat, though it looks like it; I am agent for a firm of publishers, and I haven't earned a single commission." Mrs. Shuttleworth scrutinised her grimly, and she held her breath. She might be commanded to leave, and as omnibus fares were an item of her expenditure now, no more than a shilling remained of the sum raised on the handbag. "What do you say?" she faltered. "Well," said the other, "it's like this: I'm not 'ard and I don't say as I'd care to go and turn a respectable girl into the streets, for I know what I'd be doing. But I can't afford to lay out for your breakfas' and your tea with never a farthing coming back for it. Keep the room a bit, and the rent can wait; but I must ask you to get all your meals outside till we're straight again."