"But--you're sure it's a' for her?" said the mother, with flaming cheeks. She was red, but not with shame--a little with pride, a little with recollection. She could not be so angry as she ought. Poor lads! was it not natural they should try their best to get a look at so bonny a face? She had just seen her daughter on her way to Miss Prentice, and Lily, all blushing and bright with the pleasure of seeing her, seemed to the mother to be so well worth looking at; and then Elizabeth, too, had been worth looking at, and knew what trouble it brought. "There's not much doubt about that," said Miss Prentice. "You see they think they're free to stare at _her_ when they would not stare at a lady. It's not a very nice way to show that you're a gentleman, _that_; but it's very common. I would not mind if it was just the strangers that passed; but there's some that come often, too often. Some would say they would never come without being encouraged; but I'm fond of Lily, and she's a good girl, and I would not say that." "She must not encourage them. Oh, that must never be--that can never be!" "Here she is, coming to speak for herself. Lily, you can take your mother to your room and speak to her there; but, mind, young Mrs Weston must have the children's frocks to-night; and I've given my word. Nay, dinna scold her," said Miss Prentice, whispering in Elizabeth's ear; "but give her a word of good advice. I'm aye at her, but she'll pay more attention to you." "Oh, Lily! what is all this I hear?" said the mother, when they were up-stairs, another story farther up. Miss Prentice's was the highest house in the village. This was an attic room with a sloping roof and a skylight window, on each side of which was a bed. Here Lily had lain in the early morning, when the occupant of the other bed was fast asleep, and had looked at her locket in the dawning. She sat down upon her bed now, having placed for her mother the only chair in the room; and when she heard this question she first looked Elizabeth in the face with audacious innocence, and then she slightly tossed her saucy head. "I've done nothing wrong," she said, and then added after a moment, "If there's anything wrong it's no' my fault." "But there is something wrong. Oh, Lily! trust your mother. Who would you tell if you did not tell me? My lass," said Elizabeth, passionately, "you're like myself over again; and I know what it is. Oh, Lily! trust to your mother. Nobody's angry at you; nobody says a word against you, but--what's wrong?" To this Lily for some time would answer nothing. She hung her beautiful head; she folded hems in her apron; but she would not speak. By-and-by, however, by judicious abandonment of the solemnity of her first address, Elizabeth obtained a response. "It's nothing wrong at all," Lily said, pouting; "it's--it's the lads--and the gentlemen----" "The lads--I'm not afraid for the lads, Lily." "I daresay no'," said Lily, with another toss of her head.