pretty. Perhaps they'd put you on to tabulation work, though that's
awfully dull. We'll ask your cousin."

"No; I'll do the whole or nothing."

"Well," said the grey girl, "I've got one house left to-day. Would you
like to come and see the sort of thing?"

She took a small notebook from a side pocket in her skirt.

"I can't get on without a pocket. You must have something that you can't
leave behind. I left four little bags and two dozen handkerchiefs in
five weeks before I came back to pockets. It's rather a horrid house,
I'm afraid!"

"I shall be all right," said Thyme shortly.

In the shop doorway the young tobacconist was taking the evening air. He
greeted them with his polite but constitutionally leering smile.

"Good-evening, mith," he said; "nithe evening!"

"He's rather an awful little man," the grey girl said when they had
achieved the crossing of the street; "but he's got quite a nice sense of
humour."

"Ah!" said Thyme.

They had turned into a by-street, and stopped before a house which
had obviously seen better days. Its windows were cracked, its doors