Meg's cheeks were hot under the gaze of those observant eyes, but she went on without looking up till the collar was done and another spread out. Then she said-- "What will be the next thing, mother?" "You've learnt from a good ironer, my dear." "Yes, that was mother," answered Meg brightly; "they used to say so at the Hall." "I don't doubt it. There are the shirts rolled up in that cloth. When you've done one hang it here to air; I always air everything. Poor people haven't fires, you know, and there's plenty of rheumatics caught by damp clothes." Meg ironed away, and the weary old woman caught herself dropping into a doze. It was all very well being up early and late, and washing and drying and folding, but worry quite knocked her up; and to know that she had a certain time in which those shirts must be done, and being deprived of her strong helper, she had felt as if her usual energy had failed her. A gentle voice roused her. "They are finished, mother. Have you anything else you want done, or may I go down and see if it is time for Jem?" "To be sure," answered Mrs. Seymour, opening her eyes. "Have you done a'ready? Thank you kindly, my dear." Her quick glance scanned the shirts hanging neatly folded on the large horse in front of the fire. "Are they right?" asked Meg. "I had to guess a little, because I have not ironed any of these sort of shirts ever." "They will do quite well, thank you, my dear. I don't fold 'em just so, but I don't see that it matters much for once. He won't know no difference." Just then a step was heard on the wooden stairs, and Meg started and turned round. "Is my little woman here?" asked a voice that made her heart bound. "Just ain't she?" answered her mother-in-law with animation. "Here have I been sleepin' like any top, and Meg's come and done my work for me." Jem looked well pleased. He knew his upright old mother far too well to fear that Meg would be called on too often to help. "Oh, it's nothing," said Meg; "but now, Jem, you must come to dinner, or you'll not be back in your hour." They left the old woman, and as they went down, up came the man to fetch his shirts. "All right," said Mrs. Seymour, handing them to him; "and I've put on the buttons. No thanks to Jenny, though, I can tell you. It's my new daughter as has helped me." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. A LODGER. "What do you think I'm going to try my hand at to-day?" said Meg the next morning at breakfast. "I'm sure I can't tell, dear." "I'm going to make some bread!" "Oh, that's it, is it?" asked Jem; "if I didn't guess as much when I saw you carryin' home that little red pan." "But if it's heavy," said Meg dubiously, not referring to the pan, but to the bread, "shall you ever trust me with your flour again?" He only smiled at that, and said, "But you used to make it at home, for I'm sure as you told me so once."