Then, having finished her work, she shut the two oaks with a deep sigh of relief that she had earned her wages for yet another day before her employers learned of her aunt's death.
As she came down the stairs, Mrs. Meeken, the extremely decayed lady who acted as laundress to the tenants of the two sets of chambers on the floor below, contrived to be on the landing to greet her.
"And how's your poor aunt to-day?" she said with a carneying smile.
"She's not any better, thank you," said Pollyooly quickly.
"Ah, at 'er hage, poor dear, we knows what hillness his. I shouldn't wonder as she hisn't long for this world," said Mrs. Meeken, with an air she believed to be pious, but which was merely cunning.
"Oh, she's not any worse," said Pollyooly coldly; and she went on briskly down the stairs.
But Mrs. Meeken's inquiry had banished her peace of mind; and she walked down the King's Bench Walk on lagging feet, her brow puckered by an anxious frown.
None the less, in spite of her carking care, as she turned into Alsatia she assumed a truculent air,
