There was a footstep in the shop—­firm, yet light and quick—­then a girl’s face showed itself at the parlour door.  It was a face which atoned for lack of regular features by the bright intelligence and the warmth of heart that shone in its smile of greeting.  A fair broad forehead lay above well-arched brows; the eyes below were large and shrewdly observant, with laughter and kindness blent in their dark depths.  The cheeks were warm with health; the lips and chin were strong, yet marked with refinement; they told of independence, of fervid instincts; perhaps of a temper a little apt to be impatient.  It was not an imaginative countenance, yet alive with thought and feeling—­all, one felt, ready at the moment’s need —­the kind of face which becomes the light and joy of home, the bliss of children, the unfailing support of a man’s courage.  Her hair was cut short and crisped itself above her neck; her hat of black straw and dark dress were those of a work-girl—­poor, yet, in their lack of adornment, suiting well with the active, helpful impression which her look produced.

‘Here’s Mary an’ Mr. Hackroyd fallin’ out again, Lydia,’ said Mrs. Bower.

‘What about now?’ Lydia asked, coming in and seating herself.  Her eyes passed quickly over Ackroyd’s face and rested on that of the old man with much kindness.

‘Oh, the hold talk—­about religion.’

’I think it ‘ud be better if they left that alone,’ she replied, glancing at Mary.

‘You’re right, Miss Trent,’ said Luke.  ’It’s about the most unprofitable thing anyone can argue about.’

‘Have you had your tea?’ Mrs. Bower asked of Lydia.

’No; but I mustn’t stop to have any, thank you, Mrs. Bower.  Thyrza ’ll think I’m never coming home.  I only looked in just to ask Mary to come and have tea with us tomorrow.’

Ackroyd rose to depart.

‘If I see Holmes I’ll tell him you’ll look in on Monday, Mr. Boddy.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Ackroyd, thank you; no fear but I’ll be there, sir.’

He nodded a leave-taking and went.

‘Some work, grandad?’ Lydia asked, moving to sit by Mr. Boddy.

‘Yes, my dear; the thing as keeps the world a-goin’.  How’s the little ‘un?’

’Why, I don’t think she seems very well.  I didn’t want her to go to work this morning, but she couldn’t make up her mind to stay at home.  The hot weather makes her restless.’

‘It’s dreadful tryin’!’ sighed Mrs. Bower.

‘But I really mustn’t stay, and that’s the truth.’  She rose from her chair.  ’Where do you think I’ve been, Mary?  Mrs. Isaacs sent round this morning to ask if I could give her a bit of help.  She’s going to Margate on Monday, and there we’ve been all the afternoon trimming new hats for herself and the girls.  She’s given me a shilling, and I’m sure it wasn’t worth half that, all I did.  You’ll come tomorrow, Mary?’

‘I will if—­you know what?’

‘Now did you ever know such a girl!’ Lydia exclaimed, looking round at the others.  ‘You understand what she means, Mrs. Bower?’