'Do you know whether Miss Nancarrow's in?' Thyrza asked of the little fellow. He regarded her, and nodded silently. 'Really? She's really in?' 'Yes, she's up in her room,' was the grave answer. Thyrza ran upstairs. A tap at the door, and Totty's voice--unmistakable--gave admission. The girl sat sewing; on the bed lay a child, asleep. Totty, looking delighted at Thyrza's coming, held up her finger to impose quietness. Thyrza took the only other chair there was, and drew it near to her friend. 'That's Nelly Bunce,' Totty said in a low voice, nodding to the bed. 'Just when I was going back to work, what did the child do but tumble head over heels half down stairs, running after me. It's a wonder she don't kill herself. I don't think there's no more harm done except a big bump on the back of the head, but Mrs. Ladds wasn't in, and I didn't like to go and leave the little thing; she cried herself to sleep. So there's half a day lost! Thyrza kept silence. She had felt that she would like to talk with Totty, yet now she could find nothing to say. 'How's things going on?' Totty asked, smiling. 'Very well, I think.' 'So the day's coming, Thyrza.' Thyrza played with the ends of a small boa which was about her neck. She had no reply. Her tongue refused to utter a sound. 'What's the matter?' Thyrza's hand fell, she touched the sewing that was on Totty's lap. Then she touched Totty's hand. 'Will you tell me about--about Mr. Ackroyd?' Totty drew in her lips, knitted her brows, then bent to bite off an end of cotton. 'What is there to tell?' she asked. 'Is he doing as he promised?' 'As far as I know,' said the other, in a voice which affected indifference. 'And do you think he'll keep right till Christmas?' 'That's a good deal more than I can say, or anybody else.' 'But you'll do your best to make him?' 'I don't know that I shall bother much. It's his own lookout. I shall know what he means if he goes wrong again.' 'But--' 'Well? What?' 'You hope he'll keep his promise?' Thyrza said, bending a little nearer, and dropping her eyes as soon as she had spoken. 'H'm. Yes. Perhaps I do,' said Totty, putting her head on one side. And forthwith she began to hum a tune, which however, she checked the next moment, remembering Nelly. 'But you speak in a queer way, Totty.' 'So do you, Thyrza. What are you bothering about?' Again she searched Thyrza's face, this time with something very curious in her gaze, a kind of suspicion one would have said. 'I--I like to know about you,' Thyrza said, with embarrassment. 'I've told you all there is to tell.' 'But you haven't told me really whether--Do you,' she sank her voice still lower, 'do you love him, Totty?'