"There's reason in it, too," said Hilary, amused and drawn out of herself by the frank manner and the cordial voice--I use the adjective advisedly; none the less sweet because its good terse English had a decided Scotch accent, with here and there a Scotch word. Also there was about Miss Balquidder a certain dry humor essentially Scotch--neither Irish "wit" nor English "fun," but Scotch humor; a little ponderous perhaps, yet sparkling: like the sparkles from a large lump of coal, red-warm at the heart, and capable of warming a whole household. As many a time it had warmed the little household at Stowbury--for Robert Lyon had it in perfection. Like a waft as from old times, it made Hilary at once feel at home with Miss Balquidder. Equally, Miss Balquidder might have seen something in this girl's patient, heroic, forlorn youth which reminded her of her own. Unreasoning as these sudden attractions appear, there is often a hidden something beneath which in reality makes them both natural and probable, as was the case here. In half an hour these two women were sitting talking like old friends; and Hilary had explained her present position, needs and desires. They ended in the one cry--familiar to how many thousands more of helpless young women!--"I want work!" Miss Balquidder listened thoughtfully. Not that it was a new story--alas! she heard it every day; but there was something new in the telling of it; such extreme directness and simplicity, such utter want of either false pride or false shame, No asking of favors, and yet no shrinking from well-means kindness; the poor woman speaking freely to the rich one, recognizing the common womanhood of both, and never supposing for an instant that mere money or position could make any difference between them. The story ended, both turned, as was the character of both, to the practical application of it--what it was exactly that Hilary needed, and what Miss Balquidder could supply. The latter said, after a turn or two up and down the room, with her hands behind her--the only masculine trick she had-- "My dear, before going further, I ought to tell you one thing--I am not a lady." Hilary looked at her in no little bewilderment. "That is," explained Miss Balquidder, laughing, "not an educated gentlewoman like you. I made my money myself--in trade. I kept an outfitter's shop." "You must have kept it uncommonly well," was the involuntary reply, which, in its extreme honesty and naivete, was perhaps the best thing that Hilary could have said. "Well, perhaps I did," and Miss Balquidder laughed her hearty laugh, betraying one of her few weaknesses--a consciousness of her own capabilities as a woman of business, and a pleasure at her own deserved success.