the light growing broader, until at last she reached the
topmost landing, where the big skylight revealed a long row of doors,
each giving entrance to a separate dwelling. The girl looked confusedly
at them for a moment, and then, recalling sundry directions Walter had
given, proceeded to knock at the middle one. It was opened at once by a
young woman wearing a rusty old black frock and a large checked apron, a
little shawl pinned about her head quite tightly, and making her face
look very small and pinched. It was a very pale face,--quite ghastly,
in fact,--the very lips white, and her eyes surrounded by large black
circles, which made Gladys think she must be very ill.

'Well, miss?' she said coolly and curtly, holding the door open only
about three inches.

'Does Mrs. Hepburn live here?' asked Gladys, thinking she had made a
mistake.

'Yes, but she's no' at hame. Come back the morn. Eh, Liz, will yer
mither be oot the morn?'

'Ay; ask her what she wants,' a somewhat husky voice announced from the
interior, followed by a fit of coughing quite distressing to hear.

'Oh, is that Walter's sister, who is ill?' said Gladys eagerly. 'Please,
may I come in? Ask her. Tell her that I have come from Colquhoun Street
to see her. I am Gladys Graham.'

The young woman disappeared into the interior; a whispered consultation
followed, and a general hurrying movement of things being put straight,
then Gladys was bidden come in.

She stepped into the little narrow dark passage, closed the door, and
entered the kitchen where the two girls were. It was quite a comfortable
place, clean and warm, though the air was close, and not wholesome. It
had a few articles of kitchen furniture, and two beds, one in each
corner, which rather crowded the space. On one of the beds, half-lying,
half-sitting, was Liz, Walter's sister, with a blanket pinned round her
shoulders, and a copy of the _Family Reader_ in her hand, open at a
thrilling picture of a young lady with an impossible figure being
rescued from a runaway horse by a youth of extraordinary proportions.

Gladys entered the kitchen rather hesitatingly,--the young woman with
the sullen grey face disconcerted her--but when she looked at Liz she
smiled quite brightly, and came forward with a quick, ready step.

'How are you? I am so sorry you are ill. Walter thought I might come to
see you. I hope you will soon be better.'

Liz allowed her hand to be shaken, and fixed her very bright