"I'll see," said Mavis, as she thoroughly turned out her pockets.
Another gold piece fell out; also, a bunch of violets.
"Vilets!" laughed Miss Ewer.
"Don't touch those. No one else shall have them," cried Mavis, as she wildly snatched them.
"You're welcome to that rubbage, and as you've given me all this, in return I'll give you a tip as is worth a king's money box."
"You needn't bother."
"You shall 'ave it. I've never told a soul. It's 'ow you can earn a living on the streets like me, and keep, like me, as good a maid as any lady married at St George's, 'Anover Square."
"Thank you, but—".
"Listen; listen; listen! It's dress quiet, pick up soft-looking gents, refuse drink, and pitch 'em a Sunday school yarn," said Miss Ewer impressively.
"But—".