CHAPTER I
A slatternly woman was standing at the entrance of a narrow court in oneof the worst parts of Chelsea. She was talking to a neighbour belongingto the next court, who had paused for a moment for a gossip in herpassage towards a public-house.
'Your Sal is certainly an owdacious one,' she said. 'I saw her yesterdayevening when you were out looking for her. I told her she would get ithot if she didn't get back home as soon as she could, and she jestlaughed in my face and said I had best mind my own business. I told herI would slap her face if she cheeked me, and she said, "I ain't yourhusband, Mrs. Bell, and if you were to try it on you would find that Icould slap quite as hard as you can."'
'She is getting quite beyond me, Mrs. Bell. I don't know what to do withher. I have thrashed her as long as I could stand over her, but what isthe good? The first time the door is open she just takes her hook and Idon't see her again for days. I believe she sleeps in the Park, and Isuppose she either begs or steals to keep herself. At the end of a weekmaybe she will come in again, just the same as if she had only been outfor an hour. "How have you been getting on since I have been away?" shewill say. "No one to scrub your floor; no one to help you when you aretoo drunk to find your bed," and then she laughs fit to make yer bloodrun cold. Owdacious ain't no name for that wench, Mrs. Bell. Why, thereain't a boy in this court of her own size as ain't afraid of her. She isa regular tiger-cat, she is; and if they says anything to her, she justgoes for them tooth and nail. I shan't be able to put up with her waysmuch longer. Well, yes; I don't mind if I do take a two of gin withyou.'
They had been gone but a minute or two when a man turned in at thecourt. He looked about forty, was clean shaven, and wore a roughgreat-coat, a scarlet and blue tie with a horseshoe pin, and tightly cuttrousers, which, with the tie and pin, gave him a somewhat horseyappearance. More than one of the inhabitants of the court glancedsharply at him as he came in, wondering what business he could havethere. He asked no questions, but went in at an open door, picked hisway up the rickety stairs to the top of the house, and knocked at adoor. There was no reply. He knocked again louder and more impatiently;then, with a muttered oath, descended the stairs.
'Who are you wanting?' a woman asked, as he paused at a lower door.
'I am looking for Mrs. Phillips; she is not in her room.'
'I just saw her turn off with Mother Bell. I expect you will find themat the bar of the Lion, lower down the street.'
With a word of thanks he went down the court, waited two or threeminutes near the entrance, and then walked in the direction of thepublic-house. He had gone but a short distance, however, when he saw thetwo women come out. They stood gossiping for three or four minutes, andthen the woman he was in search of came towards him, while the otherwent on down the street.
'Hello, Mr. Warbles!' Mrs. Phillips exclaimed when she came near to him;'who would have thought of seeing you? Why, it is a year or more sinceyou were here last, though I must say as your money comes every monthregular; not as it goes far, I can tell you, for that girl is enough toeat one out of 'arth and 'ome.'
'Well, never mind that now,' he said impatiently, 'that will keep tillwe get upstairs. I have been up there and found that you were out. Iwant to have a talk with you. Where is the girl?'
'Ah, where indeed, Mr. Warbles; there is never no telling where Sal is;maybe she is in the next court, maybe she is the other side of town. Sheis allus on the move. I have locked up her boots sometimes, but it is noodds to Sal. She would just as lief go barefoot as not.'
By this time they arrived at the door of the room, and after somefumbling in her pocket the woman produced the key and they went in. Itwas a poverty-stricken room; a rickety table and two chairs, a small bedin one corner and some straw with a ragged rug thrown over it inanother, a kettle and a frying-pan, formed its whole furniture. Mr.Warbles looked round with an air of disgust.
'You ought to be able to do better than this, Kitty,' he said.
'I s'pose as I ought,' she said philosophically, 'but you know me,Warbles; it's the drink as does it.'
'The drink has done it in your case, surely enough,' he said, as he sawin his mind's eye a trim figure behind the bar of a countrypublic-house, and looked at the coarse, bloated, untidy creature beforehim.'
'Well, it ain't no use grunting over it,' she said. 'I could havemarried well enough in the old days, if it hadn't been that I was alwayslosing my places from it, and so it has gone on, and I would not changenow if I could. A temperance chap come down the court a week or two ago,a-preaching, and after a-going on for some time his eye falls on me, andsays he to me, "My good woman, does the demon of drink possess youalso?" And says I, "He possesses me just as long as I have got money inmy pocket." "Then," says he, "why don't you take the pledge and turnfrom it all?" "'Cause," says I, "it is just the one pleasure I have inlife; what should I do I should like to know without it? I could dressmore flash, and I could get more sticks of furniture in my room, whichis all very well to one as holds to such things, but what should I carefor them?" "You would come to be a decent member of society," says he. Itucks up my sleeves. "I ain't going to stand no 'pertinence from you,nor from no one," says I, and I makes for him, and he picks up his bagof tracts, and runs down the court like a little dog with a big dogarter him. I don't think he is likely to try this court again.'
'No, I suppose you are not going to change now, Kitty. I have come hereto see the girl,' he went on, changing the subject abruptly.
'Well, you will see her if she comes in, and you won't if she don'thappen to, that is all I can say about it. What are you going to doabout her? It is about time as you did something. I have done what Iagreed to do when you brought her to me when she was three years old.Says you, "The woman who has been taking charge of this child is dead,and I want you to take her." Says I, "You know well enough, Warbles, asI ain't fit to take care of no child. I am just going down as fast as Ican, and it won't be long before I shall have to choose between theHouse and the river." "I can see that well enough," says you, "but Idon't care how she is brought up so as she lives. She can run aboutbarefoot through the streets and beg for coppers, for aught I care, butI want her to live for reasons of my own. I will pay you five shillingsa week for her regular, and if you spend, as I suppose you will, oneshilling on her food and four shillings on drink for yourself, it ain'tno business of mine. I could have put her for the same money in somecountry cottage where she would have been well looked after, but I wanther to grow up in the slums, just a ragged girl like the rest of them,and if you won't take her there is plenty as will on those terms." So Isays, "Yes," and I have done it, and there ain't a raggeder or moreowdacious gal in all the town, East or West.'
'That is all right, Kitty; but I saw someone yesterday, and it hasaltered my plans--but I must have a look at her first. I saw her when Icalled a year ago; I suppose she has not changed since then?'
'She is a bit taller, and, I should say, thinner, which comes ofrestlessness, and not for want of food. But she ain't changed otherwise,except as she is getting too much for me, and I have been wishing forsome time to see you. I ain't no ways a good woman, Warbles, but the galis fifteen now, and a gal of fifteen is nigh a woman in these courts,and I have made up my mind as I won't have her go wrong while she is onmy hands, and if I had not seen you soon I should just have taken her bythe shoulder and gone off to the workhouse with her.'
'They would not have taken her in without you,' the man said with a hardlaugh.
'I would have gone in, too, for the sake of getting her in. I know Icould not have stood it for many days, but I would have done it.However, the first time I got leave to come out I would have taken myhook altogether and got a room at the other end of the town, and lefther there with them. I could not have done better for her than that, butthat would have been a sight better than her stopping here, and if shewent wrong after that I should not have had it on my conscience.'
'Well, that is all right, Kitty; I agree with you this is not the bestplace
in the world for her, and I think it likely that I may take heraway altogether.'
'I am glad to hear it. I have never been able to make out what your gamewas. One thing I was certain of--that it was no good. I know a good manygames that you have had a hand in, and there was not a good one amongthem, and I don't suppose this differs from the rest. Anyhow, I shall beglad to be shot of her. I don't want to lose the five bob a week, but Iwould rather shift without it than have her any longer now she isa-growing up.'
The man muttered something between his teeth, but at the moment a stepwas heard coming up the stairs.
'That's Sal,' the woman said; 'you are in luck this time, Warbles.'
The door opened, and a girl came in. She was thin and gaunt, her eyeswere large, her hair was rough and unkempt, there were smears of dirt onher face and an expression of mingled distrust and defiance.
'Who have you got here?' she asked, scowling at Mr. Warbles.
'It is the gent as you saw a year ago, Sally; the man as I told you hadput you with me and paid regular towards your keep.'
'What does he want?' the girl asked, but without removing her glancefrom the man.
'He wants to have a talk with you, Sally. I do not know exactly what hewants to say, but it is for your good.'
'I dunno that,' she replied; 'he don't look like as if he was one to doanyone a good turn without getting something out of it.'
Mr. Warbles shifted about uneasily in his chair.
'Don't you mind her, Mr. Warbles,' the woman said; 'she is a limb, sheis, and no mistake, but she has got plenty of sense. But you had besttalk to her straight if you want her to do anything; then if she saysshe will, she will; if she says she won't, you may take your oath youwon't drive her. Now, Sal, be reasonable, and hear what the gentlemanhas to say.'
'Well, why don't he go on, then?' the girl retorted; 'who is a-stoppinghim?'
Mr. Warbles had come down impressed with the idea that the propositionhe had to make would be received with enthusiasm, but he now felt somedoubt on the subject. He wondered for a moment whether it would be bestto speak as Mrs. Phillips advised him or to stick to the story he hadintended to tell. He concluded that the former way was the best.
'I am going to speak perfectly straight to you, Sally,' he began.
The girl looked keenly at him beneath her long eyelashes, and her faceexpressed considerable doubt.
'I am in the betting line,' he said; 'horse-racing, you know; and I ammixed up in other things, and there is many a job I might be able tocarry out if I had a sharp girl to help me. I can see you are sharpenough--there is no fear about that--but you see sharpness is not theonly thing. A girl to be of use must be able to dress herself up andpass as a lady, and to do that she must have some sort of education soas to be able to speak as ladies speak. I ought to have begun earlierwith you, I know, but it was only when thinking of you a day or two agothat it struck me you would do for the work. You will have to go toschool, or at least to be under the care of someone who can teach you,for three years. I don't suppose you like the thought of it, but youwill have a good time afterwards. You will be well dressed and livecomfortably, and all you will have to do will be to play a partoccasionally, which to a clever girl will be nothing.'
'I should learn to read and write and to be able to understand books andsuch like?'
'Certainly you would.'
'Then I am ready,' she said firmly; 'I don't care what you do with meafterwards. What I want most of anything in the world is to be able toread and write. You can do nothing if you can't do that. I do notsuppose I shall like schooling, but it cannot be so bad as trampingabout the streets like this,' and she pointed to her clothes anddilapidated boots, 'so if you mean what you say I am ready.'
The thought that she was intended to bear a part in dishonest coursesafterwards did not for a moment trouble her. Half of the inhabitants ofthe court were ready to steal anything worth selling if an opportunityoffered. She herself had often done so. She had no moral sense of rightor wrong whatever, and regarded theft as simply an exercise of skill andquickness, and as an incident in the war between herself and society asrepresented by the police. As to counterfeit coin, she had passed itagain and again, for a man came up once a fortnight or so with a roll ofcoin for which Mrs. Phillips paid him about a fourth of its face value.These she never attempted to pass in Chelsea, but tramped far away tothe North, South or East, carrying with her a jug hidden under hertattered shawl, and going into public houses for a pint of beer forfather.
This she considered far more hazardous work than pilfering, and herquickness of eye and foot had alone saved her many times, as if thebarman, instead of dropping the coin into the till, looked at it withsuspicion and then proceeded to test it she was off like a deer, and wasout of sight round the next turning long before the man could get to thedoor. The fact that she was evidently considered sharp enough to takepart in frauds requiring cleverness and address gratified rather thaninclined her to reject the proposition.
'It ain't very grateful of you, Sally, to be so willing to leave meafter all I have done for you,' Mrs. Phillips said, rather hurt at herready acceptance of the offer.
'Grateful for what?' the girl said scornfully, turning fiercely uponher; 'you have been paid for feeding me and what have you done more?Haven't I prigged for you, and run the risk of being sent to quod forgetting rid of your dumps? Haven't you thrashed me pretty nigh everytime you was drunk, till I got so big you daren't do it? I don't say assometimes you haven't been kind, just in a way, but you have been asight oftener unkind. I don't want to part bad friends. If you ain'tshowed me much kindness, you have shown me all as ever I have known, andyer might have been worse than you have. I suppose yer knows this man,and know that he is going to do as he says, and means to treat me fair,for mind you,' and here she turned darkly to Warbles, 'if you tries todo anything as is wrong with me I will stick a knife into you.'
'I am going to do you no harm, Sally,' he said hastily.
'Yer had better not,' she muttered.
'I mean exactly what I say, and nothing more. Mrs. Phillips may not havebeen quite as kind to you as she might, but she would not let you gowith me if she did not know that no harm will be done with you.'
'Very well, then, I am ready,' the girl said, preparing to put on thetattered bonnet she had taken off when she came in, and had heldswinging by its strings.
'No, no,' Mr. Warbles said, in dismay at the thought of walking out withthis ragged figure by his side, 'we can't manage it as quickly as allthat. In the first place, there are decent clothes to be bought for you.You cannot go anywhere as you are now. I will give Mrs. Phillips moneyfor that.'
'Give it me,' the girl said, holding out her hand; 'she can't be trustedwith it; she would be drunk in half an hour after you had gone, andwould not get sober till it was all spent. You give it me, and let mebuy the things; I will hand it over to her to pay for them.'
'That would be best,' Mrs. Phillips said, with a hard laugh; 'she isright, Warbles. I ain't to be trusted with money, and it is no usepretending I am. Sally knows what she is about. When she has got moneyshe always hides it, and just brings it out as it is wanted; we have hadmany a fight about it, but she is just as obstinate as a mule, and nextmorning I am always ready to allow as she was right.'
'How much will you want, Kitty?'
'Well, I should say that to get three decent frocks and a fair stock ofunderclothes and boots would run nigh up to ten pounds. If it ain't somuch she can give you back what there is of it. When will you come andfetch her?'
'We had better say three days. You can get all the things in a day, nodoubt; but I shall have to make arrangements. I think I know just thewoman that would do. She was a governess once in good families, I amtold; but she went wrong, somehow, and went down pretty near to thebottom of the hill; she lives a few doors from me, and gets a fewchildren to teach when she can. I expect I can arrange with her to takeSally, and teach her. If she won't do it, someone else will; but beingclose it would be
handy to me. I could drop in sometimes of an eveningand see how she was getting on.'
'Are you my father?' the girl asked suddenly.
'No, I am not,' he answered readily.
The girl was looking at him keenly, and was satisfied that he spoke thetruth.
'I am glad of that,' she said. 'I always thought that if I had a fatherI should like to love him. If you had been my father I expect as youwould have wanted me to love you, and I am sure I should never be ableto do it.'
'You are an outspoken girl, Sally,' Mr. Warbles said, with an unpleasantattempt at a laugh. 'Why shouldn't you be able to love me?'
'Because I should never be able to trust you,' the girl said. 'I amready to work for you and to be honest with you as long as you arehonest with me. I s'pose you wouldn't be paying all this money and begoing to take such pains with me if you didn't think as you would get itback again. I don't know much, but I know as much as that; so mind, Idon't promise to love you, that ain't in the agreement.'
'Perhaps you will think differently some day, Sally; and, after all, twopeople can get on well enough together without much love. Well, have herready in three days, Kitty; but there is no use in my coming here forher. Of course, the girl must have a box, and you will want a cab. Driveacross Westminster Bridge and stop just across it on the right-handside. Be there as near as you can at eight o'clock in the evening; thatwill suit me, and it ought to suit you. It is just as well you shouldget her out of the court after dark, so that she won't be recognised inher new things, and you will get off without being questioned. I shallbe there waiting for you, but if anything should detain me, which is notlikely, wait till I come.'
When he had gone the girl flung her bonnet into a corner, then kneltdown and made up the fire; then she produced two mutton chops from herpocket and placed them in the frying-pan over it.
'Good ones,' she said. 'I got them at a swell shop near BuckinghamPalace; they were outside, just handy. Well, I s'pose them's the last Ishall nick; that is a good job.' She then took a jug out of thecupboard. 'I have got sixpence left out of that half-crown I changedyesterday. We have got bread enough, so I will bring in a quart.'
The woman nodded. She had of late, as she had told Warbles, quitedetermined she would not keep the girl much longer with her, but thesuddenness with which the change had come about had been so unexpectedthat as yet she hardly realised it. Sally was a limb, no doubt. She hadgot quite beyond her control, and although the petty thievings had beenat first encouraged by her, the aptness of her pupil, the coolness andaudacity with which she carried them out, and the perfect unconcern withwhich she started on the dangerous operation of changing the counterfeitmoney, had troubled and almost frightened her. As the girl had said, shehad never been kind to her, had often brutally beaten her, and usuallyspoke of her as if she were the plague of her life, but the thought thatshe would now be without her altogether touched her keenly, and when thegirl returned she found her in tears.
'Hello! what's up?' she asked in surprise. 'You ain't been a drinking asearly as this, have you?' for tears were to Sally's mind associated witha particular phase of drunkenness.
The woman shook her head.
'Yer don't mean to say as you are crying because I am going?' Sally wenton in a changed voice. 'I should have thought there was nothing in theworld you would be so pleased at as getting rid of me.'
'I have said so in a passion, may be, Sally. You are a limb, there ain'tno doubt of that; but it ain't your fault, and I might have done for youmore than I have, if it had not been for drink. I don't know what Ishall do without you.'
'It will make a difference in the way of food, though,' the girl said;'I am a onener to eat: still I don't think you can get rid of the dumpsas well as I can. You got two months last time you tried it.'
'It ain't that, Sally, though I dare say you think it is, but I shallfeel lonesome, awful lonesome, without you to sit of an evening to talkto. You have been like a child to me, though I ain't been much of amother to you, and you mayn't believe it, Sally, but it is gospel truth,as I have been fond of you.'
'Have you now?' the girl said, leaning forward eagerly in her chair. 'Iallus thought you hated me. Why didn't you say so? I wouldn't have'greed to go with that man if I had thought as you wanted me. I don'tcare for the dresses and that sort of thing, though I should like to gettaught something, but I would give that up, and if you like I will go bymyself and meet him where he said, and give him back that ten pound, andsay I have changed my mind and I am going to stop with you.'
'No, it is better that you should go, Sally; this ain't no place for agirl, and I ain't no woman to look after one. I have been a-thinkingsome months it was time you went; it didn't matter so much as long asyou was a kid, but you are growing up now, and it ain't to be expectedas you would keep straight in such a place as this; besides, any day youmight get nabbed, and three months in quod would finish you altogether.So you see, Sally, I am glad and I am sorry. Warbles ain't the man Iwould put you in charge of if I had my way. He has told you hisself whathe means to do with you, and I would a lot rather you had been going outinto service; only of course no one would take you as you are, it ain'tlikely. Still if you keep your eyes open, and you are a sharp girl, youmay make money by it; but mind me, Sally, money is no good by itself,nor fine clothes, nor nothing.
'It was fine clothes and drink as brought me to what I am. I was a nicetidy-looking girl when Warbles first knew me, and if it hadn't been forclothes and drink I might have been a respectable woman, and perhapsmissus of a snug public now. Well, perhaps your chances will be as goodas mine was. I have two bits of advice to give yer. When you havefinished that pint of beer you make up your mind never to touch anotherdrop of it. The second is, don't you listen to what young swells say toyer. You look out for an honest man who wants to make you his wife, andyou marry him and make him a good wife, Sally.'
The girl nodded. 'That is what I mean to do, and when I get acomfortable home you shall come and live with us.'
'It wouldn't do, Sally; by that time I reckon I shall be lying in agraveyard, but if I wasn't it would not do nohow. No man will put upwith a drunken woman in his house, and a drunken woman I shall be to theend of my life--but there, them chops are ready, Sally, and it would bea sin to let them spoil now you have got them.'
When the meal was over, and Sally had finished her glass of beer, sheturned it over.
'That is the last of them,' she said; 'I don't care for it one way orthe other. Now tell me about that cove, who is he?'
'He is what he says--a betting man, and was when I first knew him; Idon't know what his real name is, but I don't expect it's Warbles. Hewas a swell among them when I first knew him, and spent his money free,and used to look like a gentleman. I was in a house at Newmarket at thetime, and whenever the races was on I often used to see him. Well, Ileft there, and did not come across him for two years; when I did, I hadjust come out of gaol; I had had two months for taking money from thetill. I met him in the street, and he says to me, "Hello, Kitty! I wassorry to hear that you had been in trouble; what are you doing?"'
'What should I be doing?' says I; 'there ain't much chance of my gettinganother situation after what has happened. I ain't a-doing nothing yet,for I met a friend on the day I came out who gave me a couple of quid,but it is pretty nigh gone.' 'Well, look here,' says he, 'I have got akid upon my hands: it don't matter whose kid it is, it ain't mine; but Ihave got to keep it. It has been with a woman for the last three years,and she has died. I don't care how it is brought up so as it is broughtup; it is nothing to me how she turns out so that she lives. I tell youwhat I will do. I will give you ten pounds to furnish a room and getinto it, and I will pay you five shillings a week as long as it lives;and if you ever get hard up and want a couple of pounds you can have'em, so as you don't come too often.'
'Well, I jumped at the offer, and took you, and I will say Warbles hasbeen as good as his word. It wasn't long before I was turned out of mylodging for being too drunk and noisy f
or the house, and it wasn't morethan a couple of years before I got pretty nigh as low as this. I hadgot to know a good many queer ones when I was in the public line, and Ichanced to drop across one of them, and when I met him one day he toldme he could put me into an easy way of earning money if I liked, but itwas risky. I said I did not care for that, and since then I have alwaysbeen on that lay. For a bit I did very well; I used to dress up as atidy servant, and go shopping, and many a week I would get rid of threeor four pounds' worth of the stuff; but in course, as I grew older andlost my figure and the drink told on me, it got more difficult. Peoplelooked at the money more sharply, and I got three months for it twice. Iwas allus careful, and never took more than one piece out with me at atime, so that I got off several times till they began to know me. Youremember the last time I was in--I told you about it, and since then youhave been doing it.'
'But what will you do when I am gone?'
'Well, you know, Sally, I gets a bit from men who comes round of anevening and gives me things to hide away under that board. They knows asthey can trust me, and I have had five thousand pounds worth of diamondsand things hidden away there for weeks. No one would ever think ofsearching there for it. I ain't known to be mixed up with thieves, andthis court ain't the sort of place that coppers would ever dream ofsearching for jewels. Sometimes nothing comes for weeks, sometimes thereis a big haul; but they pay me something a week regular, and I gets apresent after a good thing has been brought off, so you needn't worritabout me. I shan't be as well off as I have been, but there will beplenty to keep me going, and if I have to drink a bit less it won't dome any harm.'
'I wonder you ain't afraid to drink,' Sally said, 'lest you should letout something.'
'I am lucky that way, Sally. Drink acts some ways with some people, andsome ways with others. It makes some people blab out just the thingsthey don't want known; it makes some people quarrelsome; it shuts upsome people's mouths altogether. That is the way with me. I take what Itake quiet, and though the coppers round here see me drunk pretty oftenthey can't never say as I am drunk and disorderly, so they just lets mefind my way home as I can.'
'And this man has never said no more about me than he did that firsttime?' Sally asked. 'Why should he go on paying for me all this time?'
'He ain't never said a word. I've wondered over it scores of times.These betting chaps are free with their money when they win, but thatain't like going on paying year after year. I thought sometimes youmight be the daughter of some old pal of his, and that he had promisedhim to take care of you. I thought that afterwards he had been sorry hehad done so, but would not go back from his word and so went on paying,though he did not care a morsel whether you turned out well or bad. NowI am going out, Sally.'
'You don't want to go out no more to-day,' Sally said decidedly. 'Youjust stop in quietly these last three days with me.'
'I would like to,' the woman said, 'but I don't think it is in me. Youdo not know what it is, Sally. When drink is once your master thereain't no shaking it off. There is something in you as says you must go,and you can't help it; nothing but tying you down would do it.'
'Well, look here, give me ninepence. I will go out and get you anotherquart of beer and a quartern of gin to finish up with. I have never beenout for spirits for you before, though you have beat me many a time'cause I wouldn't, but for these three days I will go. That won't beenough to make you bad, and we can sit here and talk together, and whenwe have finished it we can turn in comfortable.'
The woman took the money from a corner of a stocking, and gave it toSally, and that night went to bed sober for the first time for months.The next morning shopping began, and Sally, although not easily moved,was awe-struck at the number and variety of the garments purchased forher. The dresses were to be made up by the next evening, when she was tofetch them from the shop herself, as Mrs. Phillips shrunk from givingher address at Piper Court.
During the interval Sally suffered much from a regular course of washingand combing her hair. When on the third morning she was arrayed in hernew clothes, with hair neatly done up, she felt so utterly unlikeherself that a sort of shyness seized her. She could only judge as toher general appearance, but not as to that of her face and head, for thelodging was unprovided with even a scrap of looking-glass. She had nodoubt that the change was satisfactory, as Mrs. Phillips exclaimed,'Fine feathers make fine birds, Sally, but I should not have believedthat they could have made such a difference; you look quite anice-looking gal, and I should not be surprised if you turn outdownright pretty, though I have always thought you as plain a gal asever I seed!'