"Yes."
"What about him?" asked the other, smiling as he looked into the girl's pretty face.
"Well," said Sally, "I don't mind you telling un where I live now,—if you like.—Look, there's the address on that paper; you can take it."
"Oh, I see. In point of fact, you wish me to tell him?"
"Oh, I don't care. I dessay he don't want to know anything about I. But you can if you like."
"I will be sure to, and no doubt he will be delighted. He's been growing thin since I told him you declined to renew his acquaintance."
"Oh, don't talk! And now I must be off. Good-bye. I dessay I shall see you sometimes?"
"Without doubt. We'll have another Sunday at Richmond soon. Good-bye."
It was about four in the afternoon when Sally reached home, and she ran up at once to Ida's room, and burst in, crying out, "I've got it! I've got it!" with much dancing about and joyous singing. Ida rose with a faint smile of welcome. She had been sitting at the window, reading a book lent her by Waymark.
"They said they liked my appearance," Sally went on, "and 'ud give me a try. I go in to-morrow. It won't be a over easy place, neither. I've to do all the cleaning in the house, and there's a baby to look after when I'm not in the shop."