ey were made
fully equal to those for which regular shirt-makers receive from
seventy-five cents to a dollar a piece.

"Don't you think you can make five such as these in a week--or even
six?" he asked, in a somewhat changed tone.

"I'm afraid not," was the reply. "There's a good day's work on each
one of them, and I cannot possibly sit longer than a few hours at a
time. And, besides, there are two or three hours of every day that I
must attend to other duties."

"Well, if you can't I suppose you can't," said the tailor, in a
disappointed, half-offended tone, and turned away from the counter
and walked back to his desk, from which he called out to his
salesman, after he had stood there for about a minute--

"Pay her for them, Michael, and if you have any more ready give her
another lot."

Since the sharp rebuke given by Mr. Perkins, Michael had treated
Lizzy with less vulgar assurance. Sometimes he would endeavor to
sport a light word with her, but she never replied, nor seemed to
notice his freedom in the least. This uniform, dignified reserve, so
different from the demeanor of most of the girls who worked for
them, coupled with the manner of Perkins's interference for her,
inspired in his mind a feeling of respect for the stranger, which
became her protection from his impertinences. On this occasion, he
merely asked her how many she would have, and on receiving her
answer, handed her the number of shirts she desired.

As she turned to go out, Mrs. Gaston, who had just entered, stood
near, with her eyes fixed upon her. She started as she looked into
her face. Indeed, both looked surprised, excited, then confused, and
let their eyes fall to the floor. They seemed for a moment to have
identified each other, and then to have become instantly conscious
that they were nothing but strangers--that such an identification
was impossible. An audible sigh escaped Lizzy Glenn, as she passed
slowly out and left the store. As she reached the pavement, she
turned and looked back at Mrs. Gaston. Their eyes again met for
an instant.

"Who is that young woman?" asked Mrs. Gaston.

"Her name is Lizzy Glenn," replied Michael.

"Do you know any thing about her?"

"Nothing--only that she's a proud, stiff kind of a creature; though
what she has to be proud of, is more than I can tell."

"How long has she been working for you?"

"A couple of months or so, if I recollect rightly."

"Where does she live?" was Mrs. Gaston's nex