At seven-thirty Hilda, in the partially dismantled parlour, and Florrie in the kitchen, were sitting down to breakfast.

"In a quarter of an hour," said Hilda to herself, "the post will be here." But in four minutes she had eaten the bacon and drunk the scalding tea, and in five she had carried all the breakfast-things into the kitchen, where Florrie was loudly munching over the sloppy deal table.

She told Florrie sharply that there would be ample time to wash up.

Then she went to her bedroom, and, dragging out her trunk, slid it unaided down the stairs.

Back again in the bedroom, she carelessly glanced at the money in her purse, and then put on her things for the journey.