The Nether Millstone

by Fred M. White

"Perhaps you are right," Mary admitted. "But what are we going to do? Where are we going to sleep tonight? And have you any money?"

"Two shillings," Connie replied. "Two shillings in my pocket, more by accident than anything else. My bank has vanished with my tin box. We can't go back to Grace's lodgings at this time of night. But that is not the worst."

Mary's heart sank within her. Could there be any worse than this?

"It is that very question of lodgings," Connie explained. "Nobody will take us without belongings. They would regard us as a pair of swindlers."

"Swindlers!" Mary's face flamed at the new word. The late mistress of Dashwood Hall regarded by a common Cockney landlady as a swindler!

"It seems so cold, so hard-hearted," she protested. "And just now you were speaking of the virtues of the poor, their kindness to each other, and----"

"My dear Mary, there is no kindness like it in the world, because generally it is the very essence of self-sacrifice. But there is another side to the matter. They have to be careful, they are compelled to look coldly on outsiders, they--but why am I preaching social sermons to you at this time of night? We must make the best of it till morning and then try to find Mrs. Speed."

It seemed a hopeless kind of business to Mary. Something like looking for a needle in the proverbial truss of hay. But the girl's wits were sharpened now by this sudden contact with adversity. She began to see a way.

"It may be possible to find Mrs. Speed," she said. "It will be weary work, but the thing has to be done. The man I was speaking about, the man who was here yesterday--he is calling here tomorrow for a certain letter. I could force him to . . . but that shall be my business. The question is where shall we sleep? Not on these bare boards. And I shall drop if I don't have something to eat."

The dawn was breaking in through the shutterless windows now--the red dawn of the summer day that gives London an added touch of beauty. It would be broad daylight before long. The presence of the light gave Mary a new courage.