“There are the Baddeleys, now; they live near your school in Warrington Road. Do you ever see them?”
“No; I had forgotten about them. I do not think they know that I teach up there. I will write to-night and ask them to come and see me.”
“I will write,” said Ada, patting her sister’s nut-brown head, “you are so tired.”
“The wind has made my eyes ache.”
So Ada wrote to Mrs. Baddeley, knowing her to be a philanthropic woman, and her appeal was warmly answered.
Mrs. Baddeley called to see Jane at her school two days after, to her great delight. The lady in question was an old friend of their mother’s, but they had not seen her for some time. She had heard that the girls had come to live in London, but had not yet been to see them, and she had had no idea that Jane was teaching so near to her.
“I had heard that cookery was taught to the children in the schools, but I did not know exactly where. I am so pleased to come and see the cookery kitchen, and still more to find you in it,” said the sympathetic lady, as she sat down in a chair by the dresser and looked round admiringly at the gleaming pots and pans which Jane’s little scholars kept in order.
Jennie explained her difficulty to her genial friend.
“You do not have to spend your own money on the food for the classes, do you?” asked Mrs. Baddeley.
“No; I have some given me to start the lessons with, but if I do not sell anything for a day or two it is difficult to get along.”