think Lizzie has in
her mind? Has she anything in view in Glasgow?'

'They'd be clever that fathomed her mind; it's as deep as the sea,' said
Teen, with an involuntary touch of bitterness, for she could not help
feeling that her faithful love and service had met with but a poor
return.

'She can't think we will allow her to go back to Glasgow without knowing
what she is going to do; we had too much anxiety on her account before,'
said Gladys, with decision. 'There is no doubt her brother's house is
the place for her. I must talk to her myself.'

'Dinna dae't the nicht, Miss Gladys, or she'll think I've been tellin'
on her,' suggested the little seamstress. 'Liz is very touchy aboot a
lot o' things.'

'Well, perhaps a better plan would be to write to Walter to come down
and see her,' said Gladys thoughtfully. 'Yes, I shall just do that. How
pleased he will be to see her looking so well! Perhaps he will be able
to persuade her to go to housekeeping with him now, and in that case,
Teen, you will stay on here. Miss Peck says she can't do without you
anyhow, you are such an invaluable help with sewing and all sorts of
things; perhaps we could make a permanent arrangement, at least which
will last till I get my scheme for the Girls' Club all arranged. I must
say it does not progress very fast,' she added, with a sigh. 'We always
do so much less than we expect and intend, and will, I suppose, fall
short to the very end. If you like to stay here, Teen, as sewing maid or
anything else to Miss Peck, it will make me very happy.'

She regarded the little seamstress with a lovely kindness in her look,
and what could poor Teen do, but burst into happy tears, having no words
wherein to express a tithe of what she felt.

No further allusion was made that night to the question of the girls
leaving, and all retired to rest as usual in the house of Bourhill. In
the night, however, just when the faint streaks of the summer dawn were
visible in the summer sky, Liz Hepburn rose very softly from the side of
the sleeping Teen, and, gathering her things together in an untidy
bundle, stole out of the room and down-stairs.

The Scotch terrier, asleep on his mat at the foot of the stair, only
looked up sleepily and wagged his tail as she stepped over him and stole
softly through the hall. The well-oiled bolts slipped back noiselessly,
and she ran out down the steps, leaving the door wide to the wall.

And so they found it at six o'clock