The weeks and months passed, her daily task and common round being a mile walk to the factory, ten hours' work, and then the return journey.

One week-end on her homeward journey she was attracted and excited by a fire; when she resumed her journey she was penniless, her week's wages had been stolen from her.

Her only warm jacket and decent pair of boots then had to be pawned, for the rent must be paid.

Monday found her again at the monotonous round, but with added hardships.
She missed the jacket and the boots, and deprived herself of food that she might save enough money wherewith to take them out of pawn.
Christmas Eve came, and she had not recovered them.

She sat in her room lonely and with a sad heart, but there was mirth and noise below her, for even among the poor Bacchus must be worshipped at Christmas time.
One of the women thought of the poor lone creature up at the top of the house, and fetched her down.