Mr. Hengist came round with the Remington that evening, and stayed for an hour, helping Elizabeth to move some of the .furniture. He showed her how to work the typewriter, and, very thoughtfully, brought a sheaf of paper with him, which he left with her. After he had departed, Elizabeth sat down to master her new toy until nearly eleven o’clock. A decided bang on the floor above made her remember the time, and she put the machine away, hoping that she had not kept the top-floor lodger awake for very long.

She soon learned to type creditably, and to show Mr. Hengist how she had progressed she typed him a letter.

Another week, she thought, would see a marked improvement both in speed and correctness.

Mrs. Cotton came up to her room every morning after breakfast to hear Elizabeth’s menu for the day. Elizabeth discovered that her culinary powers were limited. Mrs. Cotton had two stock dishes which she suggested to Elizabeth every day. One was, “a nice dish of tripe with onions to suit,” and the other a treacle tart. Elizabeth did not think that the two synchronised.

On one of these visitations Mrs. Cotton ventured to inquire into Elizabeth’s history.

“Mrs. Pearson, what lives in the ’ouse next door, she says to me yesterday, ‘Well, Mrs. Cotton,’ she says, ‘so I see you’ve got a new visitor.’ ‘Yes, Mrs. Pearson,’ I says, ‘I ’ave. A Mrs. Ramsay,’ I says. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘she do look young to be married an’ all. And is ’er ’usband alive?’ she says. Well, I answers her pretty sharp, ma’am. ‘I’m not one to be prying into what don’t concern me,’ I says. She looked very silly at that, ma’am.”

“Oh?” said Elizabeth. “I think perhaps I’ll order cutlets for to-night.”

“Cutlets?” Mrs. Cotton said dubiously. “Of course, it’s just as you like, ma’am, but if you’d asked me I’d ’ave suggested a nice piece of steak with mash. You see, you don’t ’appen to care for tripe an’ onions, do you?”

“No, thank you,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “I think I’ll stick to cutlets.”

“Well, if that’s what you fancy, ma’am . . . And what would you like to follow? I was thinking a treacle tart ’ud go well after the steak.”

“Cutlets,” Elizabeth corrected. “With tomatoes.”

“Yes, ma’am. An’ some mash.”

“Can you do Scotch woodcock?” Elizabeth asked. “I think I’ll have a savoury instead of pudding.”

Mrs. Cotton looked vacant.

“Oh, yes, I can do it,” she said. “Only the kitchener’s difficult when it comes to them little knick-knacks.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said. “What about Welsh Rare-hit?”

Mrs. Cotton brightened.