was
Naomi's elder sister.

'Yes, Miss Sarah; she's a ligger-on, is Liza Anne, and so's Jane Mary,'
explained Naomi.

'What's a "ligger-on," Naomi?' inquired Sarah.

'Why, she puts the wool on the carding-machine and ligs it out. She's a
good, steady worker is Liza Anne.'

'Oh, I see; layer-on, you mean. I wish I were a "ligger-on," as you call
it; there'd be some object to get up for, at any rate.'

'You spend one day in Liza Anne's place or Jane Mary's, and you'd talk
different to that, Miss Sarah,' said Naomi.

Sarah sighed impatiently. 'You all say the same thing to me, and it's all
nonsense. You're much happier than I am; you have only to look in the
looking-glass and you'll see that, and yet you all persist in saying that
I'm happier than you.'

'You ought to be,' replied Naomi, as she gave a final adjusting pat to
the lace-bedecked matinee she had just put ready for Sarah to slip into;
but she did not attempt to argue with her mistress on a subject which she
felt, somehow, was too difficult for her.

Sarah dressed slowly; not that she was a deliberate young person at all,
but because she did not see any good in making haste, as there was
nothing to do, or rather, to put it truly, as she did not care to do
anything. However, in about an hour Sarah went downstairs dressed in a
simple but fresh and dainty print frock, and found her brother sitting at
breakfast.

'Morning, Sarah. What are you going to do to-day? Anything special on?'
he inquired.

'No; at least, I'm not going to do anything special. I believe there's a
tennis tournament on at the Haighs'; but I don't feel inclined to go;
it's going to be hot to-day, I think.'

'Piping, I should say. Well, if you don't want me to take you to the
Haighs' I'll cry off myself; it's a fearful fag playing a tournament in
this weather. Good-bye; I'm off,' he added, as he rose from the table.

'Where are you going, George?' inquired Sarah. 'If it's anywhere nice
I'll come with you.'

'It isn't,' he replied, and was going out of the room.

'Where is it?' persisted Sarah.

'Into Ousebank,' he replied laconically.

'But that is nice. Take me with you, George.'

'You are the most perverse girl I ever met. You know you hate Ousebank,
and yet you call it a nice place to go for a walk,' he scoffed.

'It's interesting. I love to see the mills turn out at twelve o'clock;
it's like a living stream of human beings pouring out of a lock-gate, and
I love Uncle Howr