"I’m afraid, miss," continued Mrs. Austin, reading her thoughts, "that although the paintings do seem really beautiful to me when I get a glimpse of them from the garret door, or pass them as they are being carried out of the house, they are not what may be called genuine works of art. Still, they’re very pretty: and they bring in lots of money!--and what more do you want?" What indeed? Dealers would not buy the painstaking efforts of amateur artists, and yet they flocked to a garret to purchase dozens of pictures, which, to put it mildly, could not be called genuine works of art. The public must buy these things, or the dealers would not want them. "What a strange girl Miss Sinclair must be!" thought Doris, "to work away at that sort of thing all alone. And she must be clever, too. I wonder how she does it, and why she does it?" Doris was soon to know. Her work grew slack at the ironmonger’s shop. A rival firm in the same street had started selling tissue paper lamp-shades, which were prettier than those Doris made, and cheaper also. Messrs. Boothby & Barton tried to do it as cheaply but failed, although they reduced Doris’s wages and bought commoner tissue paper for less money. Doris tried to improve her shades, or at least copy those in the rival shop, but could do neither well, and, disheartened and dissatisfied, her work grew irksome to her. It was then extremely hot weather, and Doris, drooping in her little close workroom, grew pale and thin. She needed change of air and scene, rest and freedom from anxiety as to ways and means, and she could get none of these things. A presentiment that she would lose her employment weighed heavily upon her mind: and one night she returned home in such low spirits that Mrs. Austin discovered the whole state of affairs. The good landlady endeavoured to comfort Doris as best she could, declaring that if she lost her work something better would turn up. "And in any case, my dear," she said in her motherly way, "you must put your trust in the Lord and He will provide." And when at last she left Doris it was with the words, "Don’t lose heart. You have at least one friend in the world who, although only a poor woman, will share her last crust with you." The next morning, when Miss Sinclair was working hard in her garret, with her door locked as usual, Mrs. Austin stood outside, knocking for admittance. "If you please, miss, might I speak with you?" she asked through the keyhole. The worker within uttered an impatient exclamation, but opened the door, saying, with a little sigh, "Well, come in. I thought it would come to this sooner or later." [Illustration: "SHE UTTERED AN EXCLAMATION OF SURPRISE."]