settled down calmly as if the present state of affairs was that which had always been. Some time, however, after these events a significant incident occurred in the history of Miss Jean Brown’s mantua-making establishment. A carriage, unknown as yet with liveries and devices which never had appeared before, appeared in Chapel Street and set down a little party of ladies at Miss Jean’s door. She advanced to meet them, as was her wont, to the door of the show-room, with a courtesy which would have done no discredit to a queen’s drawing-room. But the ladies made a pause, and whispered together, and then the eldest said--“Oh, it is Miss Douglas we want. We wish to give our orders to Miss Douglas. We have never been here before. And it is Miss Douglas we want to see.” Miss Jean, surprised, indicated Kirsteen, who happened to be in the room, with a wave of her hand, and withdrew a little in dignified watchfulness not without a shade of offence. “Oh, Miss Douglas!” cried the elder lady, while the others fluttered round, enclosing Kirsteen in the circle. “We wish to have some things made, my daughters and I. And we were so anxious to see you. We know all your romantic story. And though, as the Duchess says, it may not be a very good example, yet we felt we must come at once and patronize you. It is so disinterested of you--and so romantic.” “So interesting--like a story out of a novel.” “So dramatic! It might go on the stage.” Kirsteen stood and listened with a surprised face and an angry heart while these exclamations fluttered round. Four ladies all rustling in silks and laces--no doubt likely to be excellent customers and therefore not to be too much discouraged, but each more exasperating than the other. Dramatic! On the stage! Kirsteen had been brought up to believe that the stage was a sort of vestibule of a region which the Scotch ministers of her period had no hesitation in naming. All the blood of the Douglases rushed to her cheeks. “I think your ladyships must be deceived,” she said; “we have no romantic stories nor stage plays here.” “Oh, you must not think you can escape, you interesting creature! For it was your friend Lady Charlotte, the great beauty, who told us all about it; and we all vowed that henceforward nobody should dress us but you.” “Lady Chatty is my friend indeed,” said Kirsteen, “and she is a bonny creature; but what a friend may know is nothing to the world. And I am not the mistress here to undertake your work. Perhaps, Miss Jean, you will tell the ladies whether you can receive their orders or not. They are recommended, it would seem,” she added, addressing her somewhat mortified and indignant principal over the heads of the newcomers, “by Lady Chatty, who is just full of fancies. And the work-room is very full. But you will know best yourself what you can do.”