Sparrows Part 45

"No, thank you."

"I don't mind a drop out of business hours, when I feel I've earned it, as you might say. I've got a quartern in a bottle. If I'd expected visitors, I'd have got more, but I'll go 'alves."

"No, thank you," repeated Mavis.

"Ah! Don't mind if I do?" said the woman, in the manner of one relieved of the possibility of parting with something that she would prefer to keep.

"Not at all."

The woman heated some water in a tin kettle, before mixing herself hot gin and water in a tooth gla.s.s, the edge of which was smudged with tooth powder.

"Smoke?"

"I do, sometimes," replied Mavis.

"Have a f.a.g? A gentleman brought me these to-night."

Mavis somewhat reluctantly took and lit a cigarette. The woman did likewise, sipped her grog, and then brought a chair in order that she might sit by Mavis.

"What might your name be?"

"Keeves," answered Mavis shortly.

"Mine's Ewer--'Tilda Ewer. Miss, thank Gawd."

"You wear a wedding ring."

"Eh! That's business. And 'ow did you come to be overtook outside this 'ouse?"

"I walked far and was very tired."

"Rats!"

"I beg your pardon."

"Don't tell me. 'Ad a row with your boy, an' 'e biffed you on the 'ead.

That's nearer the truth. And that's the worst of gentlemen in drink; but then, at other times, they're generous enough when they're in liquor, and don't mind if you help yourself to any spare cash they may 'appen to 'ave about them. It's as long as it's broad."

"You're quite wrong in thinking--" began Mavis.

"Don't come the toff with me," interrupted the woman. "If you was a reel young lady, you wouldn't be out on such a night, and alone. So don't tell me. I ain't lived forty--twenty-six years for nothink."

Mavis did not think it worth while to argue the point.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"'Alf-past two. I suppose I shall 'ave to keep you till the morning."

"I'll go directly. I can knock my landlady up."

"She's one of the right sort, eh? Ask no questions, but stick it on the rent!"

"If my head wasn't so bad, I'd go at once," remarked Mavis, who liked Miss Ewer less and less.

The woman took no notice of Mavis' ungracious speech: she was staring hard at Mavis' shoes.

"Fancy wearin' that lovely dress with them tuppenny shoes!" cried Miss Ewer suddenly.

"They are rather worn."

"Oh, you young fool! Beginner, I s'pose."

"I beg your pardon."

"Must be. No one else could be such a fool. Don't you know the gentlemen is most particular about underclothes, stockings and shoes?"

"It's a matter of utter indifference to me what the 'gentlemen' think,"

said Mavis with conviction.

"Go on!"

"Very well, if you don't believe me, you needn't."

"Here, I say, what are you?" asked Miss Ewer. "Tell me, and then we'll know where we stand."

"Tell you what?"

"Are you a naughty girl or a straight girl?"

"What do you mean?"

"Straight girls is them as only takes presents like silk stockings an'

gloves from the gentlemen, like them girls in 'Dawes'."

"Girls in 'Dawes'!" echoed Mavis.

"They do a lot of 'arm; but yet you can't blame 'em: gentlemen will pay for anything rather than plank money down to them naughty girls as live by it."

"While I'm here, do you mind talking about something else?" asked Mavis angrily.

"I 'ave it. I 'ave it," cried Miss Ewer triumphantly. "You're one of the lucky ones. You're kep'."

"I beg your pardon."

"And good luck to you. Don't drink, keep him loving and generous, and put by for a rainy day, my dear: an' good luck to you."

"I'm well enough to go now," said Mavis, as she rose with something of an effort.

"Eh!"