[XXIV. WHAT VIOLET SAW IN A SHOP WINDOW]
[XXVI. "NO SENSE OF HONOUR WHATEVER"]
[XXVII. AGNES HOSKING IN TROUBLE]
PROSPERITY'S CHILD
[CHAPTER I]
THE WYNDHAM FAMILY
THE November day, which had been dull and chilly, was closing in, and a thick mist was settling over the metropolis, making the traffic in the streets slow and difficult, and causing those whose business lay in the city no small anxiety as to how they would reach their various suburban homes that night; for, as was patent to everybody, in a very short while all London would be enveloped in a dense fog.
In the sitting-room of a certain small villa at Streatham, a family group was assembled around the fire, talking and laughing. It comprised, Mrs. Wyndham and her five children—Ruth and Violet, aged fifteen and fourteen respectively; Madge, who was twelve; and Frank and Billy, who were twins of not quite ten years old. The gas had not been lit, but the fire fitfully illuminated the room, which was certainly anything but neat or well kept, for the furniture was dull if not actually dusty, the lace curtains on either side of the window were soiled and limp, and the tea-cloth on the table was crumpled and not over clean. Even in the kindly firelight the room looked poor and neglected, and yet it was evident that its general appearance might have been improved at very little cost.