t turned out,  Maidenlemans plan o send me train, in time.  stay in London for anot least, to do the bindings of his books.

    I didnt care mucail of my travelling do t before times  o curday nig drop—t ockings; o me, t I recall standing on Battersea Bridge as s, past o all tryside beyond it, t  trees

    and  a c—and o  I , and Mrs Sucksby and Mr Ibbs, and go quite alone, to a maids place in a hose dark hills, I should have laughed in your face.

    But Gentleman said I must go soon, in case t, by accidentally taking anoto be . ter o Lant Street  and e  a letter. y of ing, but  to  o e demented e of ers daugers daug to be me: tory  I  my place; t I  for anotress, but ed on every side to go to t if only some softed lady uation far ay—and so on.

    I said, If sleman, s be even sillier t told us.

    But  t a rand and Piccadilly, ory, five niged from t, t Miss Maud Lilly likely to be, all alone and unknoell ter?

    Youll see, ter and e tion, and  to t.

    t begin at once to teach me how a proper ladys maid should be.

    First, ts of t t t curls. If you turned t iron,  made t er, you

    could make t for a , or longer. Gentleman,  tyle too fast for a country lady: ill it ly smoot once—just t in a plain knot at ty il isfied, cyle, as if  us like a regular girl. y and I looked t plain and bacon-faced, ures of us in t would be a new way of curdling milk.

    y  s till clinging to t it hissing.

    Cant you do anyto t girl of yours, said Mr Ibbs to Jo make her cry?

    Joo see  makes  the less.

    .

    But e cauglemans plot, despite  time I ever kne t o be cut,  to t brought poke, he shook his head.

    Cant do it, my son. Not to-day. Got a little something cooking.

    s of a list t Gentleman  before; t.  runk, t  from a man  the river.

    trunk o take to try. In tuff dress, more or less my size; and a cloak, and sockings; and on top of it all, a e underthings.

    Mr Ibbs only undid tring at t and sat at tcimes to take apart, and po back togetleman, ook out tems one by one, and placed t upon table. Beside table  a kitchen chair.

    Noart ockings and dra mean, shes naked?

    Dainty put o ittered. Sting at Mrs Sucksbys feet, having her hair re-curled.

    Naked? said Gentleman.  else? S take off  take to bat o receive t o pass her her fresh ones.

    I  t of t o o stand and o a strange bare girl. A strange bare girl  Street, ook frig, and I o grab leman sa say youre squeamish?

    I tossed my o s. ook up a pair of tockings, and t of tchen chair.

    next? he asked me.

    I shrugged. her shimmy, I suppose.

    call it,  make sure to , before ss it on.

    ook t close to tc it carefully above t.

    Noo tie tigs see you do it.

    t about t to  fast, he made me pull

    t t lines of red and we upon my palms, as if I had been whipped.

    says t fasten at t, like a regular girl? said Dainty, ching.

    Because tleman, s need a maid. And if s need a maid, s know she was a lady. hey? he winked.

    After t came a camisole, and after t a dicky; tticoats, time of silk. tleman y run upstairs for a bottle of Mrs Sucksbys scent, and   .

    And all time I must say:

    ill you raise your arms, miss, for me to straighis frill? and,

    Do you care for it, miss, h a ruffle or a flounce? and,

    Are you ready for it now, miss?

    Do you like it draight?

    S to be tighter?-

    Oh! Forgive me if I pinch.

    At last,  as a pig. Miss Lilly sat before us  tied ticoats spread out about t rating, of course, about the neck.

    Jo say muc us all time, o his Bramah.

    Sleman, stroking urally s so teac you, darling?

    ted at ts; to t so neatly, it looked to me as if ; and as he reached higher his cheek grew

    pink, tle, tcs of its legs faintly s ill.

    t little bitcly.  ocking.  to me, and yas say its bed-time.

    Joill cy rubbed offee.

    I began at t t of t loose t and eased it free.

    ill you just lift your foot, miss, for me to take this from you?

    ill you breattle softer, miss? and t will come.

    me  for an -iron.

    Spit on ty?  to  gave a sizzle ook out a cigarette, and lit it on t base. tood by and smoked, Mrs Sucksby—s, been a mangling- another hour.

    tleman sent me upstairs, to put on t P for me. It cairs again I could  one; but Gentleman said it  dress for a sneak or for a servant—and so all t for me, o be both.

    e laug t; and t to groo t ( Dainty see oo large and needed stitcand and try a curtsey. t sounds. Say  to, it  masters: I seyed before to anyone. Noleman had me

    dipping up and doil I t I sseying came as natural to ladies maids, as passing rick, I s it—and  about t, at least, for I can still dip a proper curtsey, even noo.

    ell. seys ory. to test me, and before  my part, like a girl saying a catechism.

    No is your name?

    Aint it Susan? I said.

    Aint it Susan, w?

    Aint it Susan trinder?

    Aint it Susan, sir. You must remember, I s be Gentleman to you at Briar. I s call me sir; and you must call Mr Lilly sir; and t call miss or Miss Lilly or Miss Maud, as ss you. And  Susan trinder. t may lead to Lant Street if t find you a better second name—

    Valentine, I said, straig can I tell you? I een. I s. Gentleman heard me, and curled his lip.

    Perfect,  to put you on tage.

    I knoine! I said.

    ts true, said Dainty. Floy Valentine, and ers. Lord, I es t  to be named for them, Sue.

    I bit my finger. Maybe not.

    Certainly not, said Gentleman. A fanciful name mig o everyones notice. e need a name— it over—an untraceable name, yet one c? Lets make it, Smito be a sort of smiter all. t, I mean.

    urned it, and crooked his middle

    finger; and t—fingersmithief, we laughed again.

    At last  fun,  to? Aell me again.  is your name?

    I said it, er.

    Very good. And w is your home?

    My  London, sir, I said. My moty; o be your nurse when you was a boy, sir.

    o detail. Not so good, o style. Come noter t. Youre not selling violets. Say it again.

    I pulled a face; but then said, more carefully,

    t used to be your nurse when you were a boy, sir.

    Better, better. And uation, before this?

    itely married and about to go to India, o dress  need me.

    Dear me. You are to be pitied, Sue.

    I believe so, sir.

    And are you grateful to Miss Lilly, for  Briar?

    Oitude aint in it!

    Violets again!   dont  my ss good. Noell me tant.  are your duties ress?

    I must   steal it. I must o   carry oo , s ts for w be  see when she blushes.

    Splendid! And w is your cer?

    as the day

    And , t no-one but  know?

    t s sune; and t you, Mr Rivers, will make mine.

    I took s and sseys, my eyes all time on toe of .

    Dainty clapped me. Mrs Sucksby rubbed ogether and said,

    ty, pass me an infant, I  someto squeeze.

    Gentleman stepped aside and lit a cigarette. Not bad,  bad, at all. A little fining dos needed noer.

    Later? I said. Oleman, aint you finis? If Miss Lilly will he sake of pleasing you, why should she care how fined down I am?

    S mind,  put an apron on C it is not only  you aff.

    I said, aff? I  t of this.

    Of course,  self? First of all teward, Mr ay—

    Mr ay! said Jo. Do they call him Milky?

    No, said Gentleman. urned back to me. Mr ay,  trouble you muc tiles, tudy you a little  be careful cable-boys and gardeners—but you s see muc them.

    I looked at  t t a s, t I so play the maid for?

    Mrs Sucksby  like dougleman, s looking over. You did keep very dark about ts last night.

    ail, he said.

    A detail? t  you  all.

    But it oo late no day Gentleman   a letter, from Miss Lilly.

    it at t-office in ty. Our neig er come to t it, and broug back, and opened it o —Mr Ibbs only drumming tle on table-top, by w he was nervous; and so grew more nervous myself.

    tter ,  o e; and ful o lemen ful as him!

    on very badly, sant  and dull; pero urned. As for leman tilted tter, tter to catc.—As for o be able to tell  Agnes looked set not to die after all—

    e  and dre  in t t tleman smiled. t about to die; but s so loo Cork.

    God bless taking out his handkerchief and wiping his head.

    Gentleman read on.

    I so see te. I so me, at once. I am grateful

    to anyone for remembering me. I am not over-used to people ts. If so me, Mr Rivers, because so me from London, t .

    ter to  back and forttered in t of the lamps.

    It urned out, of course, just as the clever devil had promised.

    t nig o be my last nig Lant Street, and t nigs t  to lead to Gentlemans securing of Miss Lillys fortune—t nig out for a  roast supper, and put irons to  in tion.

    tuffed at te of mine, and got in my ook to tep, put up ooped to s, and I c ion at ts of my  s from il it sang; t to Mrs Sucksby and s t. Sleman; t for Joy; and t en-derest parts, for herself and for me.

    It , as Ive said, in my , I dont kno; per  Mrs Sucksby o eat it,  pigs  self—o be grimacing, rats eyes and tles of its snout gummed broreacly tears—but as  about table, I greleman teased, and no neatly to work on e, and

    Mrs Sucksby  neatly to e.

    I gave o Dainty. S to John. he snapped his jaws and howled, like a dog.

    And tes  to make flip. ook to take ting of t off, ting tting fire to to see it done and , like ture in a toy-shop window.

    e sat, and everyone talked and laug a fine t  rat, and no-one seemed to notice. At last Mrs Sucksby patted omach and said,

    ont you give us a tune, Mr Ibbs, to put to bed by?

    Mr Ibbs could tle, for an  a go.  acarted up arpaulin Jacket. Mrs Sucksby il  broken.  at sea.—Lost to he Bermudas.

    lets , for e maudlin. Lets see ters  of a dance.

    Mr Ibbs struck up une ty got up and pusy. til ts upon telpiece jumped and t rose inc t. Gentleman stood and leaned and cte, calling , Jo call, laugo a terrier in a fig on.

    o join t. t

    made me sneeze and, after all, t ed too  by a glass and a plate of morsels of meat for Mr Ibbss sister, and I said I , dear girl, sill clapping out t. I took te and tairs.

    It epping out of , to leave our kitcers nig ter and seen to one or t  go back to join ttle o t up t pair of stairs, to ttle attic I had been born in.

    tonig rips of drugget on it. t for a bit of blue oil-clot acked to catcand. tand, at t, coat and a s, of Gentlemans, and one or t; t cs, t e linen spilling from it. On t of a c, a packet of cigarettes, and sealing-. ttle, like toffee.

    t curtain upon it, aken off, for a counterpane: it  from a burning ill smelt of cinders. I took it up and put it about my s tood at t at t ther was hanged.

    t fe upon it, and I o it, to make turn to dirty er. I could still catcle and the bounce of

    Daintys feet, but before me treets of t at a ern of a coac t of all t must be trange and ordinary lives—in otreets, in ter parts of London. I t of Maud Lilly, in   kno I anding, plotting y arren and Jochen.

    o make out t t in a fig, , s figty. S from fig ting bad meat. Just one bit of bad meat killed  like t.

    But, sleman  t  to.

    I tried anotsey. t curtain made me clumsy. I tried again. I began to s, in sudden fear.

    tcsteps on tair, and t ans again, upon ttic stairs, and t of tle—only a little, for s sout.

    Are you ly. And all on your ohe dark?

    S  all t I —at tlemans boots and leathen she

    came to me, and put o my c as if sickled or pinc stop—I said:

    if I aint up to it, Mrs Sucksby?  if I cant do it? Suppose I lose my nerve and let you doy, after all?

    So t and sil it rested in  back tain from my croked my hen.

    Aint it a long o go? I said, looking up at her face.

    Not so far, she answered.

    Shere?

    Srand of  was caug my ear.

    Every minute, sly. Aint you my o I  you sleman by you. I s you go, for any ordinary villain.

    t rue, at least. But still my  beat fast. I t again of Maud Lilly, sitting siging for me to come and unlace ays and goy had said.

    I c t I to do it, t it a very mean trick, and shabby?

    So t, and not given it a t. And I kno also  o see you doing it now.

    t made me tful. For a minute,  and said not I asked   Lant Street, amongst all t ever. I said, in a whisper,

    Do you t s, Mrs Sucksby, whey drop you?

    ill. t started up stroking, sure as before. She said,

    I s feel not t your neck. Raticklis.

    ticklish?

    Say then, pricklish.

    Still  smoothing.

    But  it then?

    Sed cted, whe drop is opened.

    I t of t c. tc, like monkeys on sticks.

    But it comes t quick at t, s on t I rat take t of it. And o dropping a lady— in suc the quicker?

    I looked up at   striking  made o my s.

    tilted er, quite beo come to t, Sue. I s, of all t go, t .

    S; and then she winked.

    S, and seemed to mean it.

    I do sometimes  only  to be kind.

    But I didnt t t  loose; and tcime  upon tairs, and tys voice.

    you coming for a dance? Mr Ibbs   old laugh down here.

    woke

    Mrs Sucksby said t so t back doime I did dance, leman as my partner. z-step. igy, and  tcleman all time still calling, Go it, Joopping once to rub a bit of butter on o keep tle s.

    Next day, at midday, s of stuff into trunk and  . I leman could teacer tory and my ne needed to be done, and as I sat taking my last meal in t kitc, t ratoo dried, and clinging to my gums—Gentleman did it.  from e me out a cer.

    e it off in a moment. Of course, o faking papers.  up for to dry, t out. It began:

    to , May fair, recommends Miss Susan Smit  on like t, I forget t of it, but it sounded all rigo me.  flat again and signed it in a ladys curling  to Mrs Sucksby.

    do you t get Sue uation?

    But Mrs Sucksby said s o judge it.

    You kno, dear boy, she said, looking away.

    Of course, if ook  Lant Street, it  cer tle do come sometimes, to boil to es of to do for us all. e couldnt .

    So Mrs Sucksby leman read it time, t me, t and sealed it and put it in my trunk. I s of my dried meat and bread, and fastened my cloak. to say good-bye to. Joy never got up before one. Mr Ibbs o crack a safe at Bo  it straig o my face and smiled.

    God bless you, Sue! she said. You are making us rich!

    But ted from urned ao ears.

    take o Gentleman. take  let me see it!

    And so   my so o take me to a cab-stand and drive me to tation at Paddington, and see me on my train.

    t  so often I got to cross ter, and I said I so o look at t I s t. At t seemed  of all. You could see t Pauls, ter; you could see all ty, but not t or made like shadows.

    Queer to tleman, peering over t.

    e  bargained on t made traffic sloo a craer ty minutes  to catcrain; noepping fast across some great square, , and ter, and ted, the clap-

    pers and t rung t h flan-

    nel.

    raturn around, I said, and try again tomorrow?

    But Gentleman said trap sent out to Marloo meet my train tter be late, , t arrive at all.

    But after all, o Paddington at last rains all delayed and made slo like traffic:  anotil t tol train—rain as far as Maiden get off and join anoto be boarded. e stood beneaticking clock, fidgeting and blo lamps t team, it drifted from arco arc very poor. t; t streaked by birds. I t it very gloomy, for so grand a place. And of course, t press of people beside us, all ing and cursing, or jostling by, or letting to our legs.

    Fuck tleman in a oe. ooped to  from , traig up a cigarette, turned .  tes, as if stained , at t moment, look like a man a girl would go silly over.

    obacco, too, rand t ongue. t my eye and s forms—e for you and me, soon.

    I looked az  before; no Street and Mrs Sucksby and Mr Ibbs, amongst all t  us,  anotranger, and I o me. And again I almost said t urn round and go  I knew

    t if I did emper; and so, I did not.

    off for a piddle, and I  off for a piddle of my oidying my skirts; and  out tarted up and  sing rusing train. e  leman leading me to a second-class coacrunk to took a place beside a out farmer-types. I to see me get on, for of course, me being dressed so neat and comely, s tell— I  beside t by me. tilted and creaked, and  back our ared at ts of dust and varnis tumbled from t above.

    te and tting aboard I  Gentleman. urned to talk o the open window and said,

    Im afraid you may be very late, Sue. But I trap  for you at Marlo . You must  it will

    I kne once t it , and felt a rush of misery and fear. I said quickly,

    Come  you? And see me to the house?

    But ? ypes, tc , and , alking to a girl like me about it.

    ter climbed dole, train gave a o move off.

    Gentleman lifted up  and folloil t up its speed; t up—I sa  back on, t up o s to traps; t o t its beak to ts cage. to cry. It cried for half an hour.

    Aint you got any gin? I said to t last.

    Gin? s  so pleased to ting by y bitcer all.

    tering bird; and ted; and ts; and types—rain jerk and  and arrive at Maidens time, so t I missed one Marlorain and must  for t one—, my journey c broug Briar in time to take a servants tea t  dinner of bread and dried meat, at noon: it uck to my gums t I s  Maidener. tation t like Paddington, alls and a pastry-cooks stles, and t  on my trunk. My eyes stung, from turned a . Dont cry, he said, smiling.

    I aint crying! I said.

    hen asked me my name.

    It o flirt in to in to ans at t at t, but ried for an o catcy saying t s on a train once, leman near, and rousers and so ; and s, and he had given her a pound. I wondered

    o toucouc, or w.

    But the pound, where I was headed!

    Any y o spend  and kno only sell it on o bury her.

    ell, train c if rousers open I never sa last ilted  to me and got off. tops after t, and at every one someone else got off, from furtrain; and no-one got on. tations greil finally t t a tree—to see anyrees, and beyond t bro sky above it. And  about at t, and t a sky naturally could be, train stopped a final time; and t was Marlow.

    off save me. I  passenger of all. top, and came to lift dorunk. he said,

    Youll  t carrying. Is to meet you?

    I told o be a man rap, to take me up to Briar. rap t came to fetc? t would hree hours before. he looked me over.

    Come do for Briar. I told rap will have come and gone.

    tll  ll hree hours back.

    I stood and s  queer, and t I say it?—tons.

    I said, Aint take me?

    A cab-man? said ted it to ts a cab-man!

    A cab-man!

    til took out a  Marlow!

    Ohe pair of you.

    And I caugrunk and  to  must be t Mr ay kno you. See w ongue down here—!

    I cant say  to do next. I did not knoo Briar. I did not even knoo take. London y miles away, and I was afraid of cows and bulls.

    But after all, country roads arent like city ones. t four of to tarted to ed up a lantern, to look at my face.

    Youll be Susan Smitting after you all day.

    ook my trunk and o t beside ruck by t me sartan blanket for me to put about my legs.

    It o Briar, and ook it at an easy sort of trot, smoking a pipe. I told  till somet, even norains.

    s London. Knos fogs, aint it? Been muco try before?

    Not much, I said.

    Been maiding in ty,  one? Pretty good, I said.

    Rum , for a ladys maid, o France ever?

    I took a second, smoot out over my lap. Once or twice, I said.

    S kind of c? In the leg, I mean.

    Noo please illiam Inker, Sis so, he said.

    tly quiet and perfectly dark, and I imagined tolling of a bell—a very mournful sound, it seemed to me at t moment, not like t tolled nine times.

    ts t in silence after t, and in a little time ook a road t ran beside it. Soon t arc ted  a grand enoug not so grand nor so grim perleman ed it. But  from me and reacrunk, he said,

    ait up, s, o a man  t, Mr Mack. You may s te be last.

    t ared, saying not it, betrees, t curved as to a kind of  o clear a little, on try lanes—gre gre it, damp, upon my face, upon my lashes and lips; and closed my eyes.

    tared again. t from betrees into a gravel clearing, and  and straigark out of ts ered, and its o ts c  I must now call my home.

    e did not cross before t, but kept o took up a lane t sered e face and great black riking across t, illiam Inker pulled tood gazing at us,  the cold.

    tiles, rap come, said illiam. e crossed to join  a little  I saer, and t.

    to a passage, and to a great, brigc five times tc Lant Street, and s set in roable sat a boy, a  me. tudied my bonnet and t of my cloak. ts  trouble myself to study them.

    Mrs Stiles said, ell, youre about as late as you could be. Any longer and you so stay at the village. e keep early hours here.

    S fifty, e cap  quite looking in your eye as so you. S  . Plain, old-fashem.

    I made sey. I did not say—urned back at Paddington;

    t I  for anyone to ime t I rying to get forty miles from London, per to prove t London  meant to be left—I did not say t.  I said was:

    Im sure, Im very grateful t trap  at all. t table tittered to   turned out—got up and set about making me a supper-tray. illiam Inker said,

    Miss Smitty fine place in London, Mrs Stiles. And simes in France. iles.

    Only one or times, I said. Now everyone would suppose I ing.

    S in tiles gave a nod. t table tittered again, and one of t made t tray iles said,

    Margaret, you can carry to my pantry. Miss Smitake you to w splash your hands and face.

    I took to mean t so took me do passage, to anot  in it h paper on a spike.

    took me to tle room. It e , and a picture of a sailor in a frame, t I supposed er Stiles, gone off to Sea; and anoture, of an angel, done entirely in black  I presumed iles, gone off to Glory. S and cake my supper. It ton, minced, and bread-and-butter; and you may imagine t, being so  . As I ate, t I  nine. I said, Does t?

    Mrs Stiles nodded. All nig t out.

    And Miss Lilly? I said, picking crumbs from t does she like?

    S her uncle likes, she answered.

    then she rearranged her lips. She said,

    Youll kno Miss Maud is quite a young girl, for all t sress of t s dont trouble s anso me. I so knoress—but t do as se over my ter. Quite over my   t perfectly urns out.

    I said, I am sure  turn out well.

    S staff of servants, to make sure t it does. t ake to it. I dont kno place. I dont kno say. But if you mind my otable-boys, of course, I alking han you can help

    S on like t for a quarter of an ime, as I ioned, never quite catcold me  take my meals, and  my underclotea t eapot, s  of t ladys maid to pass on to tcicks: to be given to Mr ay. And Mr ay , since it  to C to Cook.

    t Miss Maud leaves in and, oo dry to raise a lathose you may keep.

    ell, ts servants for you—altle patc candle-ends and soap! If I e felt it before, I kne it o be in expectations of thousand pounds.

    t if I o so my room. But so ask me to be very quiet as , for Mr Lilly liked a silent  bear upset, and Miss Maud  of nerves t  like   alloful.

    So sook up ook up my candle, and s into taircase. ts  alake, unless Miss Maud directs you otherwise.

    read greer t. At last, o a door, t so my room. Putting urned the handle.

    I  particularly  one, no, since I must  er, perer dogs. But tel and, before t  it up—runk.

    Near t quite tig.  lead? I asked Mrs Stiles, t migo anot.

    ts to Miss Mauds room, she said.

    I said, Miss Maud is there, asleep in her bed?

    Per rat Mrs Stiles gave a s just tle.

    Miss Maud sleeps very poorly, sly. If s, to go to  call out for you, since you are a stranger to  Margaret in a cside  sake her

    tomorro, you ust be ready to be called in and examined. She said she hoped Miss Maud would find me pleasing. I said I

    did, too.

    S me, t very softly, but at to put o t , and gree cold: for s once like notron of a gaol. I said, before I could stop myself:

    Youre not going to lock me in?

    Lock you in? sh a frown. hy should I do

    t?

    I said I didnt kno me.

    I ! I t.

    t upon t s  maid left ina. It oo dark to see. Mrs Stiles aken  my candle do and made great black sened my cloak, but kept it draped about my sravelling; and ten oo late—it sat in my stomac. It en oclock. e laug people o bed before midnig home.

    I mig in gaol, I t. A gaol  troubled your ears. And  to tside, you nearly fainted to see ables, ill and quiet the land beyond.

    I remembered ttering at a   t light had shone from.

    I opened my trunk, to look at all t I   Street—but tticoats and s Gentleman ake. I took off my dress, and for a second

    against my face. t mine, eit I found t Dainty  t  t t.

    I t of t Mrs Sucksby e as strange as I kne o imagine tting eating it, perirely.

    If I  of girl, I sainly .

    But I ears. I co my nig my cloak back on above it, and stood in my stockings and my unbuttoned s t door at t t. I  a key on  turned. I  and bent and looked—and  go and do it? But oe, and stoop to t, a s, no sign of any kind of sleeping or ful girl, or anything.

    I  raig my ear flat to t-beat, and tig must le in the wood.

    Beyond t, tened for a minute, maybe t up. I took off my sers and got into bed: ts  damp, like ss of pastry. I put my cloak over tra  I mig, if someone came at me in t and I ed to run. You never kne burning. If Mr ay o complain t t ub less, too bad.

    Even a ts. till danced about. try ss stayed cold. t clock sounded  ten—eleven— eleven—t Street, home.