Liz looked quite capable of putting her threat into execution, and
Gladys shrank a little away from the fierceness of her eyes.

'Ye are ower genty. His kind need somebody that'll fecht. If he was my
uncle, and had as muckle money as they say he has, I'd walk oot in silk
and velvet in spite o' his face. I'd hing them a' up, an' then he'd need
to pay.'

Gladys only vaguely understood, but gathered that she was censuring the
old man with the utmost severity.

'Oh, I don't think he is as rich as people say, and he is very kind to
me,' said she quickly. 'If he had not taken me when my father died, I
don't know what would have become of me.'

'Imphm! The tea's bilin', Teen. Look in my goon pocket for a penny, an'
rin doon for twa cookies.'

The little seamstress obediently rose, pushed back the teapot, and
disappeared.

'If I wis you,' said Liz the moment they were alone, and leaning forward
to get a better look at Gladys, 'I wadna bide. Ye wad be faur better
workin' for yersel'. If ye like, I'll speak for ye whaur I work, at
Forsyth's Paper Mill in the Gorbals. I ken Maister George wad dae
onything I ask him.'

She flung back her tawny locks with a gesture of pride, and the rich
colour deepened in her cheek.