"If you've any accusion to make agin me, Mrs. Sprowl, p'r'aps you'll wait till you can prove it. I want change for arf a suvrin: ain't that straight, now?" "Straight or not, you won't get no change over this counter, so there you've the straight tip. Now sling yer 'ook, Slimy, an' get it somewhere else." "If you've any accusion to make--" "Hold yer noise!--What's he ordered, Liz?" "Pot o' old six," answered the girl. "Got sixpence, Slimy?" "No, I ain't, Mrs. Sprowl," muttered the creature. "I've got arf a suvrin." "Then go an' get change for it. Now, once more, sling yer 'ook." The man moved away, sending back a horrible glare from his one fiery eyeball. Mrs. Sprowl re-entered the parlour. "I wish you'd take me on as barmaid, Sarah," Harriet said, when she had drunk her glass of spirits. "Take you on?" exclaimed the other, with surprise. "Why, have you fallen out with your cousin? I thought you was goin' to be married soon." "I didn't say for sure that I was; I only said I might be. Any way it won't be just yet, and I'm tired of my place in the shop." "Don't you be a fool, Harriet," said the other, with genial frankness. "You're well enough off. You stick where you are till you get married. You wouldn't make nothin' at our business; 'tain't all sugar an' lemon, an' sittin' drinkin' twos o' whisky till further orders. You want a quiet, easy business, you do, an' you've got it. If you keep worritin' yerself this way, you won't never make old bones, an' that's the truth. You wait a bit, an' give yer cousin a chance to arst you,--if that's what you're troublin' about." "I've given him lots o' chances," said Harriet peevishly. "Eh well, give him lots more, an' it'll all come right. We're all born, but we're not buried.--Hev' another Irish?" Harriet allowed herself to be persuaded to take another glass. When the clock pointed to half-past nine, she rose and prepared to depart. She had told Mrs. Sprowl that she would take the 'bus and go straight home; but something seemed to have led her to alter her purpose, for she made her way to Westminster Bridge, and crossed the river. Then she made some inquiries of a policeman, and, in consequence, got into a Kennington omnibus. Very shortly she was set down close by Walcot Square. She walked about till, with some difficulty in the darkness, she had discovered the number at which Julian had told her his friend lived. The house found, she began to pace up and down on the opposite pavement, always keeping her eyes fixed on the same door. She was soon shivering in the cold night air, and quickened her walk. It was rather more than an hour before the door she was watching at length opened, and two friends came out together. Harriet followed them as closely as she could, until she saw that she herself was observed. Thereupon she walked away, and, by a circuit, ultimately came back into the main road, where she took a 'bus going northwards.