"----and bandages and that," concluded Rachel. "It's some time now since I've seen him. His aunt has been away at Strathpeffer all the summer, and the house has been shut up." "But I have still another customer to account for;" and in some fear and trembling, Mona told the story of the scullery-maid and her bonnet. "My word!" said Rachel, "you gave yourself a deal of trouble. I don't see that it matters what they wear, and the hats pay better. Young folks will be young, you know, and for my part I don't see why May should go like December." Mona sighed. "Perhaps I was wrong," she said; "I don't think it is a common fault of mine to be too ready to interfere with other people; but the girl looked so quiet and sensible, in spite of her trumpery clothes. Servants never used to dress like that; but perhaps, like a child, I have been building a little sand-dyke to prevent the tide from coming in." "What I can't see is, why you should trouble yourself about what they wear. One would think, to hear you talk, that it was a question of honesty or religion like." Mona sighed again, and then laughed a little bitterly. "No doubt the folks here could instruct me in matters of honesty and religion," she said; "but I did fancy this morning that I could teach that child a thing or two about her bonnet." "Oh, well, I daresay she'll be in on Monday morning to say she's thought better of it." There was a long silence, and then Rachel went on, "My dear, how ever did you come by that extraordinary name? I never heard the like of it. They called your mother Margaret, didn't they?" "Yes, Margaret is my own second name, but I never use it. So long as a name is distinctive, the shorter it is, the better." "H'm. It would have been a deal wiser-like if you'd left out the Mona. I can't bring it over my tongue at all." And in fact, as long as Mona lived with her cousin, she was constrained to answer to the appellation of "my dear." "My dear," said Rachel now, "I don't think I ever heard what church you belong to." Mona started. "I was brought up in the Church of England," she said. "Surely your father never belonged to the Church of England?" "He usually attended the church service out in India with my mother. I don't think he considered himself, strictly speaking, a member of any individual church, although he was a very religious man." "Ay. I've heard that he wasn't exactly sound." "I fancy he would be considered absolutely sound now-a-days,-- 'For in this windy world, What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.'" Rachel looked puzzled. "Oh!" she said with sudden comprehension. "No, no, you mustn't say that. Truth is always the same." "From the point of view of Deity, no doubt; but to us poor 'minnows in the creek' every wave is practically a fresh creation."