This fair lasted nearly the whole week, and as the weather was fine, and the wax-work show fairly successful, Mrs. Stanley's temper somewhat improved, and Lizzie began to hope she might escape the threatened beating after all. That such a beating as alone would satisfy Mrs. Stanley would kill her now she felt sure, for she was no longer the rosy healthy girl she was when she left home. She had begun to grow thin and careworn, and though the walnut-juice dye had changed the colour of her skin so that she could no longer look white, she began to look yellow and sickly, instead of the "nut-brown maid" Mrs. Stanley had designed she should be. This was especially noticeable when this week's work was over; for the confinement in the sickening atmosphere, and the fatigue of walking continually round the close confined space within the van, told upon the girl's strength so severely, that the last night of the fair she could scarcely do her treadmill task, and when at last the door was closed, and the steam whistle screeched its final blast, the poor girl sank down upon the floor more dead than alive.