'I get a penny each for them, an' a penny ower.'

'For making these great things?'

'Oh, I dinna mak' them a'. The seams are run up wi' the machine afore I
get them. I pit in the sleeves, the neckbands, an' mak' the buttonholes.
There's mair wark at them than ye wad think.'

'Is the money not very little?'

'Maybe; but I'm gled to get it. I'm no' able for the mill, an' I canna
sterve. It keeps body an' soul thegither--eh, Liz?'

'Nae mair,' said Liz abstractedly, again absorbed in her paper. 'But
maybe oor shot 'll come.'

Gladys rose to her feet, suddenly conscious that she had made a very
long visit. Her heart was heavier than when she came. More and more was
the terrible realism of city life borne in upon her troubled soul.

'I'm afraid I must go away,' she said very quietly. 'I am very much
obliged to you for being so kind to me. May I come again?'

'Oh, if ye like,' said Liz carelessly. 'But ye'll no' see Teen. She
lives doon the street. My mither canna bide her, an' winna let her nose
within the door, so we haud a jubilee when she's nailed.'

'Oh, please don't speak like that of your mother!'