The two girls, handkerchief to nose, hurried by breathless, with bent heads. A little past Hammersmith Broadway they had their first sight of human life. Two gaunt faces looked out at them from an upper window. Blanche waved her hand, but the women in the house, half-wondering, half-fearful, at the strange sight of these two fancifully dressed girls, shook their heads and drew back. Doubtless there was some secret hoard of food in that house and the inmates feared the demands of charity.
“Well, we aren’t quite the last, anyway,” commented Blanche.
“What were they afraid of?” asked Millie.
“Thought we wanted to cadge, I expect,” suggested Blanche.
“Mean things,” was her sister’s comment.
“Well! we weren’t so over-anxious to have visitors,” Blanche reminded her.
“We didn’t want their beastly food,” complained the affronted Millie.
The shops in Hammersmith did not offer much inducement to exploration. Some were still closely shuttered, others presented goods that offered no temptation, such as hardware; but the majority had already been pillaged and devastated. Most of that work had been done in the early days of the plague when panic had reigned, and many men were left to lead the raids on the preserves of food.
Only one great line of shuttered fronts induced the two girls to pause.
“No need to go to Wisteria for clothes,” suggested Blanche.