"It's short for Grimalkin. The name of a cat in a book of fairy tales I used to be fond of reading. Don't you think he's got a beautiful face, and a good deal more intelligent than some people we could mention? I picked him up on our door-step, two months ago. Oh, you never saw such a wretched little object, dripping with rain, and with such a poor starved little face, and bones almost coming through the skin. He looked up at me, and begged me as plain as plain could be to have pity on him and help him; didn't you, Grimmy? And so I brought him upstairs, and made him comfortable, and now we shall never part.--Do you like animals?" "Yes." The door of the room suddenly opened, and there sprang in a fresh-coloured young girl in hat and jacket, short, plump, pretty, and looking about seventeen. She started back on seeing that the room was occupied. "What is it, Sally?" asked Grim's mistress, with a good-natured laugh. "Why, Mrs. Walter told me you wasn't in yet; I'm awful sorry, I beg your pardon." She spoke with a strong south-west-country accent. "Do you want me?" "It's only for Grim," returned Sally, showing something which she held wrapped up in paper. "I'd brought un home a bit o' fish, a nice bit without bone; it'll just suit he." "Then come and give it he," said the other, with a merry glance at Waymark. "But he mustn't make a mess on the hearthrug." "Oh, trust un for that," cried Sally. "He won't pull it off the paper." Grim was accordingly provided with his supper, and Sally ran away with a "good-night." "Who's that?" Waymark asked. "Where on earth does she come from?" "She's from Weymouth. They talk queerly there, don't they? She lives in the house, and goes to business. Sally and I are great friends." "Do you come from the country?" Waymark inquired, as she sat down in an easy-chair and watched the cat eating. "No, I'm a London girl. I've never been out of the town since I was a little child." "And how old are you now?" "Guess." "Not twenty." "Eighteen a month ago. All my life before me, isn't it?" Waymark kept silence for a moment. "How do you like my room?" she asked suddenly, looking round. "It's very comfortable. I always thought there were nothing but business places all about here. I should rather like to live in the very middle of the town, like this." "Should you? That's just what I like. Oh, how I enjoy the noise and the crowds! I should be ill if I had to live in one of those long, dismal streets, where the houses are all the same shape, and costermongers go bawling about all day long. I suppose you live in a place like that?" "Very much the same." In taking his handkerchief out, Waymark just happened to feel a book in his overcoat-pocket. He drew it forth to see what it was, having forgotten entirely that he had been carrying the volume about with him since morning. "What's that?" asked the girl. "Will you let me look? Is it a tale? Lend it me; will you?" "Do you read books?"