The girl, whose only idea of the country was her acquaintance with the straight, conventional arrangement of city parks and gardens, looked about her with genuine wonder.

‘My,’ she said, as they crossed over the little footbridge at the station, ‘sic a room folk have here!  Are there nae hooses ava?’

‘Oh, lots,’ replied Gladys quite gaily, relieved to see even a faint interest exhibited by her guest.  ’We shall drive through Mauchline presently; it is such a pretty, quaint little town.’

A very dainty little phaeton, in charge of an exceedingly smart young groom, waited at the station gate for Miss Graham.  Teen regarded it and her with open-mouthed amazement.  Again it seemed impossible that this gracious, self-possessed lady, giving her orders so calmly, and according so well in every respect with her changed fortunes, could be the same girl who accompanied Liz and herself to the Ariel Music Hall not much more than a year ago.

‘My,’ she said again, when Gladys took the reins and the pony started off, ‘it’s grand, but queer.’

‘It is all very nice, I think,’ said Gladys whimsically.  ’Did I tell you that Mrs. Macintyre, who used to live in the Wynd, is at the lodge at Bourhill?  But perhaps you did not know Mrs. Macintyre?’

‘I have heard o’ her frae Liz,’ Teen replied; ’but I didna ken that she was here.’

’She only came a month ago.  She is a great treasure to me.  I wonder if you have thought why I wished you to come here?’

‘I’ve wondered.  Ye can tell me, if ye like,’ said Teen.

’Well, you see, I have always been sorry about you, somehow, ever since that day I saw you in the Hepburns’ house; I really never forgot your pale face.  I want you here for your own sake, first, to try and make you look brighter and healthier, and I want your advice and help about something I am more interested in than anything.’

‘My advice an’ help!’ repeated Teen almost blankly, yet secretly flattered and pleased.  The idea that her advice and help should be desired by any one was something so entirely new that she may be excused being almost overcome by it.

‘Yes,’ answered Gladys, with a nod.  ’It’s about the girls—­the girls you and I know about in Glasgow, who have such a poor time, and are surrounded with so much temptation.  Do you remember that night long ago when Lizzie Hepburn and you took me to the Ariel Music Hall?’

‘Yes, I mind it fine.  I was thinkin’ o’t no’ a meenit syne.’

’Well, don’t you think that the girls we saw there might have some place a little pleasanter and safer for them to be in than a music hall?’

‘Yes,’ answered Teen, with unwonted seriousness.  ‘It’s no’ a guid place.  I’ve kent twa-three that gaed to the bad, an’ they met their bad company there.  But what can lassies dae?  Tak’ Liz, for instance, or me.  Had we onything to keep us at hame?  The streets, or the music hall, or the dancin’, ony o’ them was better than sittin’ in the hoose.’