'Oh, you are very kind, but I don't think I could work in a mill. I
don't know anything about it, and I am quite happy with my uncle--as
happy as I can be anywhere, away from papa.'

Liz regarded her with a look, in which contempt and a vague wonder were
oddly mingled.

'Weel, if you are pleased, it's nae business o' mine, of course. But I
think ye are a fule. Ye wad hae yer liberty, onyway, and I could show ye
a lot o' fun. There's the dancin'-schule on Saturday nichts. It's grand;
an' we're to hae a ball on Hogmanay. I'm gettin' a new frock, white book
muslin, trimmed wi' green leaves an' a green sash. Teen's gaun to mak'
it. That's what for I'll no' gang to service, as my mither's aye
wantin'. No me, to be ordered aboot like a beast! I'll hae my liberty,
an' maybe some day I'll hae servants o' my ain. Naebody kens. Lord
Bellew's bride in the story was only the gatekeeper's dochter, an'
that's her on the horse, look, after she was my Lady Bellew. Here's
Teen.'

Breathless and panting, the little seamstress returned with the cookies,
and made a little spread on the bare table. Gladys was not hungry, but
she accepted the proffered hospitality frankly as it was given, though
the tea tasted like a decoction of bitter aloes. She was horrified to
behold the little seamstress swallowing it in great mouthfuls without
sugar or cream. Gladys had sometimes been hungry, but she knew nothing
of that painful physical sinking, the result of exhausting work and
continued insufficiency of food, which the poisonous brew for the time
being overcame. Over the tea the trio waxed quite talkative, and 'Lord
Bellew's Bride' was discussed to its minutest detail. Gladys wondered at
the familiarity of the two girls with dukes and duchesses, and other