ouldering in the grate.

'Mercy me! it's eleeven o'clock; but it's Sunday mornin', so it doesna
matter,' she said almost blithely, for in the morning everything seems
brighter, and even hard places less hard. 'My certy, Liz, ye've sleepit
weel. Hae ye ever wakened?'

'Never; I've no' haen a sleep like that for I canna tell ye hoo lang,'
said Liz quite gratefully, for she felt wonderfully rested and
refreshed.

In an incredibly short space of time the little seamstress had the
kettle singing on the cheery hob, and toasted the bread, while Liz was
washing her face and brushing her red locks at the little looking-glass
hanging at the window.

They were sitting at their cosy breakfast, talking of commonplace
things, when Walter's double knock came to the door. Teen ran to admit
him, and, with a series of nods, indicated to him that his sister was
all right within. There was a strained awkwardness in their meeting. Liz
felt and resented the questioning scrutiny of his eyes, and had not Teen
thrown herself into the breach, it would have been a strange interview.
As it was, she showed herself to be a person of the finest and most
delicate tact, and more than once Walter found himself looking at her
with a kind of grateful admiration, and thinking what an odd mistake he
had made in his estimate of her character.

When the breakfast was over, Teen, under pretence of going to inquire
for a sick neighbour, took herself off, and left the brother and sister
alone. It had to come sooner or later, she knew, and she hoped that Liz,
in her softer mood, would at least meet Walter half-way.

When the door was closed upon the two there was a moment's silence,
which Walter broke quite abruptly; it was not his nature to beat about
the bush.

'Are you going to tell me this morning where you have been all this
time?'

'No,' she answered calmly, 'I'm not.'

This was unpromising, but Walter tried not to notice her defiant manner
and tone.

'Very well; I won't ask you, since you don't want to tell. You haven't
been prospering, anyhow. Now, any one can see that; but we'll let
bygones be bygones. I'm in a good way of doing now, Liz, and if you like
to come along to Colquhoun Street and try your hand at housekeeping, I'm
ready.'

Liz was profoundly amazed, but not a change passed over her face.

'Ye're no' feared,' was her only comment, delivered at last in a
perfectly passionless voice.

'Feared! What for?' he asked, trying to spe