“Ye see, Miss Lillie, it’s just the new linen. I dinna think ye ever lookit at it before; is’t no’ beautiful? And I was just thinking we should hae it made. Ye see, Mr Halbert he hasna ower mony, and to be ploutering and washing ance in a fortnight like common folk disna do for the like o’ us; and ye micht get some yoursel’, Miss Lillie; some o’ the new-fashioned kind wi’ the frills, for it’s a muckle web, and it wad be a guid turn to somebody, the making o’ them.” Helen was twisting a corner of the linen nervously in her fingers. “I think I could get some one to do it for you, Lilias, if you could trust me,” she said. “And you’re just the best to ken, Miss Buchanan,” said Mrs Mense, “for ye see Miss Lillie has nae friend to speak o’ but yoursel’, and it’s no like she could ken wha sewed weel, and wha didna; but I’m just as blythe as I can be, Miss Lillie, to see you wi’ your light gown and your smile again, and so is Mossgray; and now I’ll gang my ways, and see that Jen’s minding the breakfast.” “Lilias,” said Helen, when the old woman was out of hearing, “I don’t need to have any foolish pride with you. _I_ will make these things for you if you will take me for your sempstress.” “_You_, Helen,” said Lilias, “you don’t need--you don’t wish--I mean--” “I mean that we have never been rich, Lilias,” said Helen, with her shifting blush, “and that now there is occasion for a little more work than usual--that is all; and you need not look so grave, unless you think I shall not make these new-fashioned things well enough to please Mrs Mense; but I am not afraid, Lilias--I think you may trust me.” “But, Helen, you have too much to do already; you cannot work always,” said Lilias. “Let me speak to Mossgray--let me--” “Hush, hush,” said Helen, “you forget that we have some pride still. I have not too much to do, Lilias; people seldom have, I think, and it is no great matter when one can get through one’s troubles by a little additional labour. It is no hardship; this is my kind of fighting, you know, and I can do it very well. I think you will give me your work, Lilias, and a great deal of praise when it is done. I shall please Mrs Mense. I will invent frills. I think you must trust me.” It was a slight trial to the sensitive, proud Helen; her cheek was flushed a little, and the smile trembled on her lip, but she talked the uncomfortable feeling away, and got it over, with less pain than she could have thought. The great web of linen was committed to her hands, and while Lilias entered into her revival of happy life, calm, peaceful, and at rest, Helen went away home to the little, quiet, dull house, and to her labour, the long, hard toil to which her heart rose, as to the strenuous oar which might keep the little ship afloat.