ould make it clear that, not only had I confused the SDF with the WLF, the ILP with the WTUL, but I had absolutely no idea, and never had had, what the initials stood for anyway. When I shyly confessed one time, about six weeks after I moved in there, that I scarcely knew the difference between a Tory and a Liberal, they took it as a kind of clever joke. ''You are so right, Miss Astley!'' a man had answered. ''There is no difference at all, and if only everyone were as clear-sighted as yourself, our task would be an easier one.'' I smiled, and said no more. Then I collected the cups, and took Cyril into the kitchen with me; and while I waited for the kettle to boil I sang him an old song from the music hall, which made him kick his legs and gurgle. Then Florence appeared. ''What a pretty song,'' she said absently. She was rubbing her eyes. ''Ralph and I are going out - you won''t mind watching Cyril, will you? There is a family up the road - they are having the bailiffs in. I said we would go, in case the men get rough . . .'' There was always something like this - always some neighbour in trouble, and needing money, or help, or a letter writing or a visit to the police; and it was always Ralph and Florence that they came to -1 had not been with them a week before I saw Ralph leave his supper and run along the street in his shirt-sleeves, to give
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