irs of watching eyes,
Rose hastily put out her hand. Peter took it respectfully, slightly
abashed.

"Can I--is there anything--anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, please," she said, struggling to remember what it was.
"Some--er--lace--torchon--for my sister; that is what I came for."

"This way," said Peter gently; and they walked down the long, narrow
shop together, closely scrutinised by the young women behind the
counters. Two or three of these, with ingratiating smirks, converged
upon the spot where their young chief halted and called aloud for
torchon lace. The favoured one brought forth the stock, unexpectedly
large and valuable, and the girl was soon able to make her choice. She
wanted one dozen yards, and there was a piece of fourteen that Peter
styled a "remnant" for her benefit. If he could have presented it to
her free of cost, he would have loved to do so; as it was, she made an
excellent bargain.

"I only hope they won't ask me where I got it," she said to herself on
the way home. Happily, they did not. The usual Buckley was taken for
granted, and Deb slashed up the lace without noticing that she had
fourteen yards for twelve.

But Rose was a poor schemer, and it was inevitable that she should soon
be found out.

The sisters were gathered about their window table in the attic room on
the following afternoon. Keziah had brought their tea, and amid the
litter of their needlework they drank it leisurely, enjoying a spell of
rest. Both casements stood wide. Deb, at one end, gazed wistfully at
the Malvern Hills; Frances, at the other, looked down on objects nearer
home. Rose had purposely drawn her chair back farther into the room. A
joyous bark arose.

"There's your young man, Rose," said Frances flippantly. "Really, the
dandy has surpassed himself. Knickerbockers and a Norfolk jacket, if
you please! Why, actually a horse! He is going out to ride. This it is
to be a counter-jumper in these levelling times!"

"He is not a counter-jumper," said reckless Rose.

"How do you know?" returned Frances swiftly.

"Proprietors don't wait behind the counter."

"That is where he has had to learn his business, of course," said Deb.
"But there is nothing disgraceful in counters. Don't be snobbish,
Francie. Every trade--profession too, for that matter--has to have a
counter of some sort."

"Of course it has," said Rose, heartened.

"Oh, but to see a man--a miserable apology for a man--measuring out
calicoes an