mouth, brilliant blue eyes, and a mass of reddish-brown hair, which set
off the extreme fairness of her skin. Gladys felt fascinated as she
looked, though she felt also that there was something fierce, and even
wild, in the depths of these eyes. Evidently they found satisfaction in
their survey of the stranger's face, for she laid down the paper, and
gave her head a series of little nods.

'Gie her a chair, Teen, and shove the teapat on to the hob,' she said,
offering to her guest such hospitality as was in her power.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER VI.

PICTURES OF LIFE.


Gladys sat down, and suddenly became conscious of what she was carrying,
a little flower-pot, in which bloomed a handful of Roman hyacinths,
their delicate and lovely blossoms nestling among the tender green of
their own leaves, and a bit of hardy fern. It was her only treasure,
which she had bought for a few pence in the market one morning, and she
had nothing else to bring to Liz.

'Will you take this? Is it not very pretty? I love it so much, but I
have brought it for you. My father liked a flower when he was ill.'