MISS MAT FIELD'S NEW YEAR 401

eagerly to the holiday at home, to that train which would
take her away, on Christmas Eve, from the vast glitter-
ing muddle of London. Mr. GoLspie, who was appar-
ently going to spend Christinas in Paris with his
daughter, and Mr. Dersingham, whose spirits rose at the
approach of all holidays, were in a good temper, but
everybody else in the office seemed unusually gloomy
Mr. Smeeth was not exactly gloomy, but he was worried
and fussy, as if something was troubling his grey and
shrinking little mind. Turgis, who was not very cheer-
ful at any time, was simply terrible; he went slouching
about the place, sat at his desk staring out of the window
at the black roofs, made a mess of his work, and almost
snarled his replies to any civil question. Several times
she had to speak to him quite sharply, the lout. The
little Sellers girl, perhaps because Turgis was either so
aloof or so rude, was not her usual perky self, and even
Stanley, though ready to give Christmas or any other
holiday the warmest welcome, had suffered so much
lately from the moods of Mr, Smeeth and Turgis, who
accused him unjustly of dawdling over every errand, that
he was now turning into quite a sulky boy. And
although Miss Matfield, who considered herself merely
a visitor to Angel Pavement, in it but not of it, had
always preserved her independence, she had to sit in the
same room all day with these others, to work with them,
and could not help being influenced by the prevailing
outlook and their various attitudes. It was depressing.
Outside the office it was as bad, if not worse. She had
her presents to buy, which meant frantic rushes to the
shops during lunch time or the short space left to her in
the evening before they closed. They were packed out
with people, and, of course, you could never find the