Sam did not know; but he was obliged to drive on, having spent more time than he could afford on Miss Anderson’s business that morning. Mrs. Austin returned home, and, by way of comforting Doris, set the kettle on, and began to prepare a little meal for her. As she was thus busily engaged the door-latch was raised, and a youth entered dressed as a shop-boy and bearing a family resemblance to the Austins. "Good afternoon, aunt," he said, looking round the room with sharp eyes that noted everything. "Good afternoon. I suppose you are in want of a bite or a sup?" she remarked sagaciously. "Well, I do feel a bit of a sinking here," and he made a rapid gesture indicative of hunger. "Sit you down then; I’m just making a little dinner ready, and a cup of tea for my lady-lodger, and you shall have some too, Sandy, if you’ll wait." "All right, I’ll wait," and so saying he sat down and watched his aunt as she boiled a couple of eggs and made tea in a little brown teapot which had seen many days. As she worked Mrs. Austin talked, and, because her mind was full of Doris she spoke most of her, not exactly revealing her artistic efforts and subsequent failure to effect a sale of her pictures, but still graphically portraying her need of remunerative work. Sandy listened with scanty attention. He was much more interested in the egg and large cup of tea which his aunt placed before him, and it seemed as if he were the last person in the world to do Doris any good. Indeed, Mrs. Austin suddenly perceived that her words were absolutely wasted, and therefore pulled herself up short, with the exclamation, "I declare, I might as well talk to this lampshade as to you!" She glanced as she spoke at the pretty crimson shade over the gas-light. It was made of crinkled paper, tied together with a narrow ribbon. "You never have an idea in your head, Sandy," she added. Sandy grinned. "Who made that lampshade?" he asked, as he cut the top off his egg. "What shade? Oh? the gas-shade! Miss Anderson, my lodger, you know, made that for me one evening, with a bit of crinkled paper that only cost 2-½*d*. Very handy she is with her fingers." Sandy made no further remark until he had finished eating and drinking everything that was placed before him. "There," he said, at last, "I’ve done! Now then for a look at this shade," rising to look at the pretty lamp-shade, tied with a knot of crimson ribbon, which Doris had made in a few minutes with her clever fingers, as a small thank-offering for her landlady. "Well, what do you think? Isn’t it pretty?" asked Mrs. Austin. "Pretty? Yes, well, it’s pretty. I reckon if your lady-lodger made some of these for our shop they’d sell." "Would they now?" There was eagerness in the question. Could this possibly prove to be a chance of work for poor Miss Anderson?