"So I have been, and in a sense it is finished and beautiful, I am sure; but there aint no feather-stitching. I can't manage the feather-stitching. I can never featherstitch any more, Alison. Maybe for a short time longer I may go on with plain needlework, but that special twist and the catching up of the loop in the quilting part of the feather-stitching, it's beyond me, darlin'. 'Taint that I can't see how to do it, 'taint that I aint willing, but it's the finger and thumb, dearie; they won't meet to do the work proper. It's all over, love, all the money-making part of my work. It's them letters to Australia, love. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" Grannie laid her white head down on the table. It was a very sad sight to see it there, a much more pathetic sight than it had been to see Alison's golden head in the same position an hour or two ago. There was plenty of hope in Alison's grief, heart-broken as it seemed, but there was no hope at all in the old woman's despair. The last time she had given way and spoken of her fears to Alison she had sobbed; but she shed no tears now--the situation was too critical. "_Ef_ you had only learned the stitch," she said to her granddaughter. There was a faint shadow of reproach in her tone. "I can't show it to you now; but ef you had only learned it." "But I do know it," said Alison, in distress. "Not proper, dear; not as it should be done. I fear that I can never show you now." "And that is why you want me to marry Jim?" said Alison. "I wonder at you, Grannie--you who have such pride!" "There are times and seasons," said Grannie, "when pride must give way, and it seems to me that we have come to this pass. I looked at Jim when he was talking to-day, and I saw clear--clear as if in a vision--that he would never cast up to you those words that you dread. If you are never cleared of that theft, Alison, Jim will never call his wife a thief. Jim is good to the heart's core, and he is powerful rich, and ef you don't marry him, my gel, you'll soon be starving, for I can't do the feather-stitching. I can't honestly do the work. I'll go and see the manager to-morrow morning; but it's all up with me, child. You ought to marry Jim, dear, and you ought to provide a home for the two little ones--for Polly and little Kitty." "And what's to become of you, Grannie, and Dave, and Harry, and Annie?" "Maybe Jim would take Annie too, now that he is so rich." "Do you think it would be right to ask him?" "No, I don't; no, I don't. Well, anyhow, it is good to have half the fam'ly put straight. You will think of it, Ally, you will think of it; you've got a whole week to think of it in." "I will think of it," said Alison, in a grave voice. She got up presently; she was feeling very restless and excited. "I think I'll go out for a bit," she said. "Do, child, do; it will bring a bit of color into your cheeks."