No; with her lived another young woman, also a widow, who had one child. Mrs. Hewett, her name. She did sewing in the room behind, or attended to the shop when Mrs. Todd was away making purchases.
There Jane Snowdon entered. The clothing that hung in the window made it very dark inside; she had to peer a little before she could distinguish the person who sat behind the counter. ‘Is Pennyloaf in, Mrs. Todd?’
‘Yes, Miss. Will you walk through?’
The room behind is lighted from the ceiling. It is heaped with the most miscellaneous clothing. It contains two beds, some shelves with crockery, a table, some chairs—but it would have taken you a long time to note all these details, so huddled together was everything. Part of the general huddling were five children, of various ages; and among them, very busy, sat Pennyloaf.
‘Everything going on well?’ was Jane’s first question.
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Then I know it isn’t. Whenever you call me “Miss,” there’s something wrong; I’ve learnt that.’
Pennyloaf smiled, sadly but with affection in her eyes. ‘Well, I have been a bit low, an’ that’s the truth. It takes me sometimes, you know. I’ve been thinkin’, when I’d oughtn’t.’
‘Same with me, Pennyloaf. We can’t help thinking, can we? What a good thing if we’d nothing more to think about than these children! Where’s little Bob? Why, Bob, I thought you were old clothes; I did, really! You may well laugh!’
The laughter was merry, and Jane encouraged it, inventing all sorts of foolish jokes. ‘Pennyloaf, I wish you’d ask me to stay to tea.’