"But you knew I was unwell, and that I should count on you upper girls to fill my place. Or you should have known. What if you _were_ tired? You are young and strong; you could have stood it easily enough, and there was much work to be done. In a crisis we don’t think about being tired. We just keep on. And even if you did sleep all day, I suppose it never occurred to you in the evening that someone would be needed to take charge during last night. The least you could have done would have been to run up and see how things were. But no! You didn’t even do that! Shall I tell you who did take charge last night? Miss Jackson. She’d been on duty the whole day yesterday. She stayed all night till six o’clock. And she was back again at nine o’clock this morning--twenty-five minutes before you. And when I told her to go back home, she positively refused. She defied me. That’s what I call the true spirit, my dear Lilian." Miss Grig ceased; only her lustrous reproachful eyes continued the harangue. She had shown no anger. She had appealed to Miss Share’s best instincts. The address "my dear Lilian" caused misgivings in the employee’s bosom. Lilian knew that it was Felix and not Miss Grig who had admitted her to employment, and that Miss Grig had been somewhat opposed to the engagement. She also guessed that Miss Grig objected to her good looks, and was always watchful for an occasion to illustrate her theory that a girl might be too good-looking. And the tone of the words "my dear Lilian" had menace in its appealing, sad sweetness. Miss Grig had been known to deviate without warning into frightful inclemency, and she always implacably got the last ounce out of her girls. The culprit offered no defence. There was no defence. Assuredly she ought to have run up on the previous evening. Miss Grig had spoken truth--the notion of running up had simply not occurred to the preoccupied Lilian. Nevertheless, while saying naught, she kept thinking resentfully: "Here I worked over twenty hours on end and this is my reward--a slating! This is my reward--a nice old slating!" With fallen face and drooping lower lip she moved to leave. She was ready to cry. "And there’s something else, Miss Share. Now please don’t cry. When Mr. Grig came up the night before last to tell you that I was unwell, you ought not to have allowed him to stay. You know that he can’t stand night-work. Men are not like us women----" "But how could I possibly----" Lilian interrupted, quite forgetting the impulse to cry. "You should have seen that he left again at once. It would have been quite easy--especially for a girl like you. The result is that he’s been a wreck ever since. It seems he stayed till four o’clock and after. I tried my best to stop him from coming at all; but he would come.... Please, please, think over what I’ve said. Thank you."