Teen nodded sagaciously.

‘If she gangs oot o’ this hoose, she tak’s me wi’ her,’ she said, with a determined curve on her thin lips.

‘And whatever you need, come to me,’ he said, with his hand in his pocket; but Teen stopped him with a quick gesture.

‘I have ony amount o’ money I got frae Miss Gladys.’

’Keep it for yourself.  You must spend my money on Liz, and see that she wants for nothing.  It strikes me a doctor is the first thing she needs, but I’ll be back to-morrow.  Good-night, and thank you, Teen.  You are a good little soul.’

‘Middlin’,’ replied Teen, with a jerk, and closed the door.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A FAITHFUL FRIEND.

The little seamstress was in a quiver of happy excitement, which betrayed itself in her very step as she returned to the kitchen.

Liz lay back in the old basket-chair with her eyes closed, and the deadly paleness of her face was very striking.

‘Ye arena weel, Liz,’ she said brusquely.  ’It’s the stair; ye never could gang up a stair, I mind, withoot bein’ oot o’ breath.  Never mind; the kettle’s bilin’, an’ ye’ll hae yer tea in a crack.’

She busied herself about the table with nervous hands, astonished at her own agitation, which did not appear to have communicated itself to Liz, her demeanour being perfectly lifeless and uninterested.

Teen’s stock of household napery did not include a tablecloth, but, desirous of doing honour to her guest, she spread a clean towel on the little table, and set out the cups with a good deal of cheerful clatter.

‘What’ll ye tak’?  I have eggs, Liz—­real country eggs.  I brocht them up frae the country mysel’,’ she said, thinking to rouse the lethargy of her companion.  ’I very near said I saw them laid; onyway, I saw the hens that laid them.  Ye’ll hae an egg, eh?’

‘Yes, if ye like.  I havena tasted since eleeven this morning, an’ then it was only a dram,’ said Liz languidly.

Teen stood still on the little strip of rag-carpet before the fender, and regarded her friend with a mingling of horror and pity.  Whatever had been the tragedy of the past few months, Liz had not thereby bettered herself.  With a little choking sob, Teen made greater haste with her preparation, and put upon the table a very tempting little meal, chiefly composed of dainties from Bourhill, a very substantial basket having been sent up to the little seamstress by order of Miss Graham.  Liz threw off her hat, and, drawing her chair up to the table, took a long draught from the teacup.

‘Eh, that’s guid,’ she said, with a sigh of satisfaction.  Ye’re better aff than me, efter a’, Teen, an’ I wish I was in yer place.’

‘Ye’ll bide here noo ye have come, onyhoo,’ said the little seamstress cheerily.  ’My ship has come in; but we’ll speak upon it efter.  I say, isn’t Walter lookin’ fine?  He wad pass for a lord, jist as you said.’