he blessed
Sunday gave them a few hours of freedom?

It was at this moment that Nan, with fine tact, broke the silence that
was good for work, but was apt to wax drowsy in time:

"Miss Milner's dress is getting on well. How fast you two girls work!
and mammie is doing the sleeves beautifully. Another afternoon you
must let the work rest, mammie, and read to us, or Phillis will get
restive. By the bye, Dulce, we have not told her a word about Miss
Drummond's visit."

"No, indeed: was it not good of her to come so soon?" exclaimed Dulce.
"She told us she wanted to be our first customer, and seemed quite
disappointed when we said that we were bound in honor and mere
gratitude to send Miss Milner's dress home first. 'Not that I am in a
hurry for my dress, for nobody cares what I wear,' she said, quite
cheerfully; 'but I wanted to be the first on your list.' I wish we
could oblige her, for she is a nice, unaffected little thing, and I am
beginning to like her, though she is a little fussy."

"But she was as meek as a lamb about her dress," added Nan, who was a
first-rate needle-woman, and could work rapidly while she talked.
"Just fancy, Phil! she wanted to have a jacket with tabs and loose
sleeves, just for comfort and coolness."

"Loose sleeves and a jacket!" almost gasped Phillis, for the princess
skirts were then worn, and jackets were consigned to oblivion for the
time being. "I hope you told her, Nan, that we had never worked for
Mrs. Noah, neither had Mrs. Shem ever honored us by her custom."

"Well, no, Phillis; I was not quite so impertinent, and clever
speeches of that sort never occur to me until you say them. But I told
Miss Drummond that I could not consent to spoil her lovely dress in
that way; and then she laughed and gave in, and owned she knew nothing
about fashions, and that her sister Grace always ordered her clothes
for her, because she chose such ugly things. She sat and chatted such
a long time with us; she had only just gone when you came home."

"And she told us such a lot about this wonderful Grace," went on
Dulce: "she says Archie quite worships her.--Well, mammie," as Mrs.
Challoner poised her needle in mid-air and regarded her youngest
daughter with unfeigned astonishment, "I am only repeating Miss
Drummond's words; she said 'Archie.'"

"But, my dear, there was no need to be so literal," returned Mrs.
Challoner, reprovingly; for she was a gentlewoman of the old school,
and nothing grieve