‘Were you reading when I came in?  I’m afraid I have stopped you,’ said Gladys at length.

‘Ay, I was readin’ to Teen “Lord Bellew’s Bride; or the Curse of Mountford Abbey.”  Splendid, isn’t it, Teen?’ said Liz quite brightly.  ‘We buy’d atween us every week.  I’ll len’ ye’d, if ye like.  It comes oot on Wednesday.  Wat could bring’d on the Monday.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Gladys.  ’I haven’t much time; I have a great deal to do in the house.’

‘Hae ye?  Ay, Wat telt me; an’, michty! ye dinna look as if ye could dae onything.  The auld sinner, I’d pooshin him!’

Liz looked quite capable of putting her threat into execution, and Gladys shrank a little away from the fierceness of her eyes.

’Ye are ower genty.  His kind need somebody that’ll fecht.  If he was my uncle, and had as muckle money as they say he has, I’d walk oot in silk and velvet in spite o’ his face.  I’d hing them a’ up, an’ then he’d need to pay.’

Gladys only vaguely understood, but gathered that she was censuring the old man with the utmost severity.

’Oh, I don’t think he is as rich as people say, and he is very kind to me,’ said she quickly.  ’If he had not taken me when my father died, I don’t know what would have become of me.’

‘Imphm!  The tea’s bilin’, Teen.  Look in my goon pocket for a penny, an’ rin doon for twa cookies.’

The little seamstress obediently rose, pushed back the teapot, and disappeared.

‘If I wis you,’ said Liz the moment they were alone, and leaning forward to get a better look at Gladys, ’I wadna bide.  Ye wad be faur better workin’ for yersel’.  If ye like, I’ll speak for ye whaur I work, at Forsyth’s Paper Mill in the Gorbals.  I ken Maister George wad dae onything I ask him.’

She flung back her tawny locks with a gesture of pride, and the rich colour deepened in her cheek.

’Oh, you are very kind, but I don’t think I could work in a mill.  I don’t know anything about it, and I am quite happy with my uncle—­as happy as I can be anywhere, away from papa.’

Liz regarded her with a look, in which contempt and a vague wonder were oddly mingled.

‘Weel, if you are pleased, it’s nae business o’ mine, of course.  But I think ye are a fule.  Ye wad hae yer liberty, onyway, and I could show ye a lot o’ fun.  There’s the dancin’-schule on Saturday nichts.  It’s grand; an’ we’re to hae a ball on Hogmanay.  I’m gettin’ a new frock, white book muslin, trimmed wi’ green leaves an’ a green sash.  Teen’s gaun to mak’ it.  That’s what for I’ll no’ gang to service, as my mither’s aye wantin’.  No me, to be ordered aboot like a beast!  I’ll hae my liberty, an’ maybe some day I’ll hae servants o’ my ain.  Naebody kens.  Lord Bellew’s bride in the story was only the gatekeeper’s dochter, an’ that’s her on the horse, look, after she was my Lady Bellew.  Here’s Teen.’