As she turned to go out, Mrs. Gaston, who had just entered, stood near, with her eyes fixed upon her.  She started as she looked into her face.  Indeed, both looked surprised, excited, then confused, and let their eyes fall to the floor.  They seemed for a moment to have identified each other, and then to have become instantly conscious that they were nothing but strangers—­that such an identification was impossible.  An audible sigh escaped Lizzy Glenn, as she passed slowly out and left the store.  As she reached the pavement, she turned and looked back at Mrs. Gaston.  Their eyes again met for an instant.

“Who is that young woman?” asked Mrs. Gaston.

“Her name is Lizzy Glenn,” replied Michael.

“Do you know any thing about her?”

“Nothing—­only that she’s a proud, stiff kind of a creature; though what she has to be proud of, is more than I can tell.”

“How long has she been working for you?”

“A couple of months or so, if I recollect rightly.”

“Where does she live?” was Mrs. Gaston’s next question.

“Michael gave her the direction, and then their intercourse had entire reference to business.”

After the subject of this brief conversation between Mrs. Gaston and Michael left the store of Mr. Berlaps, she walked slowly in the direction of her temporary home, which was, as has before been mentioned, in an obscure street at the north end.  It consisted of a small room, in an old brick house, which had been made by running a rough partition through the centre of the front room in the second story, and then intersecting this partition on one side by another partition, so as to make three small rooms out of one large one.  These partitions did not reach more than two-thirds of the distance to the ceiling, thus leaving a free circulation of air in the upper and unobstructed portion of the room.  As the house stood upon a corner, and contained windows both in front and on the end, each room had a window.  The whole were heated by one large stove.  For the little room that Lizzy Glenn occupied including fire, she paid seventy-five cents a week.  But, as the house was old, the windows open, and the room that had been cut up into smaller ones a large one; and, moreover, as the person who let them and supplied fuel for the stove took good care to see that an undue quantity of this fuel was not burned she rarely found the temperature of her apartment high enough to be comfortable.  Those who occupied the other two rooms, in each of which, like her own, was a bed, a couple of chairs, and a table, with a small looking-glass, were seamstresses, who were compelled, as she was, to earn a scanty subsistence by working for the slop-shops.  But they could work many more hours than she could, and consequently earned more money than she was able to do.  Her food—­the small portion she consumed—­she provided herself, and prepared it at the stove, which was common property.