"but she made match-boxes I should a said, and she gotter bob a day, she did, for the work o' the lot of us—me an' the uvver two kids. . . . An' she wouldn't let farver take me away from it neiver—she knowed wot 'e was—and I was worf a good tuppence 'apenny a day, I was, when I wasn't more'n abaht eight years old. We wos terrors at matches, when it wasn't too cold to feel nothink wiv' yer 'ands. . . .
"And then the Revering 'Oly 'Ennery 'Opper's bloomin' well Missus from the tin chapel took to Districk-visitin' us, she did. . . . There we wos, all of us eggsep' the two bibies, workin' away like devils to make seven bob a week for rent, coals, and food—the pore ain't go no right to nothink else—when there comes a knock at our door an' in walks the 'oly female.
"‘Don' git up, my good woman,' she says gracious-like.
"‘I ain't got time to,' says Muvver, practical-like. 'My time's took up wiv' work—to get food an' fuel, when I paid me rent,' she says.
"‘How many hours a day do you work?' says the 'oly lady, a sniffin' the balmy atmosfeer of our
