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‘Here’s two fives,’ he said, shutting down the desk with the sigh of a crocodile.

‘Liar! You said you had nothing!’ her unspoken thought ran, and at the same instant the Sunday-school and everything connected with it greviously sank in her estimation; she contrasted this scene with that on the previous day with the peccant schoolgirl: it was an hour of disillusion. Taking the notes, she gave a receipt and rose to go.

‘Tell ye father’—it seemed to Anna that this phrase was always on his lips—‘tell ye father he must come down and look at the state this place is in,’ said Mr. Price, enheartened by the heroic payment of ten pounds. Anna said nothing; she thought a fire would do more good than anything else to the foul, squalid buildings: the passing fancy coincided with Mr. Price’s secret and most intense desire.

Outside she saw Willie Price superintending the lifting of a crate on to a railway lorry. After twirling in the air, the crate sank safely into the waggon. Young Price was perspiring.