hands among the folds of white velvet. It was
an odd dress, but a handsome dress, she
remarked, with her trained accuracy of judgment
in such matters. And the wearer was an odd
person, but a handsome person, she went on to
observe, with the untrained accuracy of her
natural instinct.

“She is taller than I am, and more beautiful,”
thought Janet, as Hester’s drooping hair
touched her own bare white shoulder. Miss
Janet had an advantage over Hester, for in a
long, dim, ghostly strip of mirror set in a wall
she could see the striking contrast made by
two girlish forms and faces.

“And her ancestors might have been princes
when mine followed the plough!” continued
Miss Janet, following a new idea through her
very capricious mind.

The dress was mended; and adjusted on the
wearer by Hester’s hands. Then Miss Janet
stood aloof, and regarded her gentle tirewoman.

“You shall come down to dinner with me,”
she said suddenly, much as she might have said,
“you shall have a piece of cake,” to a child.
“Lady Helen will be quite content if I desire
it. I will lend you a pretty gown. I will not
have you mewed up here by yourself.”

Miss Golden in this proposal need not be
wondered at too much. Some people who knew
her well would not have been surprised to hear
her begging of a beggar to take a present of
her purse, or ordering her milliner to make her
a bonnet out a rainbow. She had an eye for
beauty, and an instinct for breeding. She was
a person who knew how to change her mind.
She could give a blow and a kiss in the same
breath.

“Thank you,” said Hester, “but I have
dined.” And that was all she said. And this
being so, Miss Janet retreated to the door in
high amazement.

“Good night!” she said, “and thank you for
your service.” And then looking over her
shoulder before she closed the door.

“And I hope, young woman,” she said,
“that you understand your business. If not,
you will find little welcome here.”

Hester had hardly got over the surprise of
this first visit when some other knuckles came
tapping on her door. The handle was turned
again, and the Honourable Madge put in her
head.

“So you are the dressmaker, my dear?” she
said. “And a very charming young dressmaker
I declare! Thirteen for dinner they
said, and I would not go down for the world.
And dear Archie just come home, and my
cherry tabinet quite wasted!”

And she stroked down her dress.

“Just what I was at her age!” she said,
seizing Hester’s hand, and holding her a little
off, scanning her up and down with half-closed
eyes. “But time will make havoc.” And she
swayed herself to and fro, lifted her hand to feel
that the likeness of her lover was in its place
upon her forehead, and looked askance at the
fire, with a half-sad, half-bitter little smile.

“You will excuse me, my dear, if I poke
your fire?” And she made a little frisk towards
the hearth. “The night is so cold, and
you look such a sociable young person!”

Hester placed her a chair, and fetched her
a footstool, and then, at her bidding, sat facing
her by the fender.

“What is the news from the world, my
dear?” she said, dropping her voice and looking
cautiously round her. “They do tell such
tales of the times. But Lady Helen don’t allow
any newspapers to come in. And Sir Archie
is as close as an oyster. He laughs and says,
‘I will not let them cut off your head, Cousin
Madge.’ (The Honourable Madge, my dear,
to strangers.) So I said to myself, ‘Our new
dressmaker will have no scruples about telling
me the truth.’”

“I know far less than you do, I am sure,”
said Hester, fearfully. “I have come straight
from London, and I was shut up in a steamer
or a coach all the way. In Dublin, at night
there was a crowd in the streets. They said
some one was being taken to prison. It was
terrible, the crowd was so quiet.”

“Ah, ah!” said Miss Madge, nodding her
head, “better did they shout and roar. And
hist! my dear—what is your name? Hester!
Excuse the Christian name. It is so much
more comfortable between friends. I call
myself Madge, the Honourable Madge. Ah!”

“This country is safe, is it not?” ventured
Hester.

“Safe!” echoed Miss Madge, with a terrible
little laugh. “Vesuvius, my dear, must be a
nice safe place to live upon till the volcano
begins to spout fire. Any night we may be
hanged from our bed-posts.”

Hester shuddered and drew nearer to the
cherry tabinet.

“Or burned in our beds,” said the Honourable
Madge. “But that is no reason why we
should have our dresses made unfashionably in
the mean time. And I came here chiefly to
compliment you on your dolls. Poor dolls
would be burned, too, of course.”

“But, madam,” pleaded Hester, “please
pardon me if I ask you, does not Sir Archie
Munro discountenance the disturbances? He
does not concern himself with the troubles?”

“Don’t he?” cried the Honourable Madge,
giving her head a toss, and snapping her
fingers. “It may be that he don’t. He may
or he may not. If I were a man I should, I
can tell you, that’s all. I would lead out my
clan to do battle!”

And the Honourable Madge grasped the
poker, and made a fierce little flourish with it
in the air.

“Look in there,” she said again, stabbing
the fire, and making the red cinders drop
about. “Does it not look like rows of houses
burning? La, my dear, don’t turn so pale.
And I wanted so much to speak to you about
my new pink silk. Well, I’ll bring it you in
the morning.”

And soon after this she pirouetted towards