Helena, with downcast eyes, was taking off her gloves. Her cheek was flushed, and she smiled a little triumphantly. ‘Girls can do something then, after all?’ said she. ‘Have I not two living and bright proofs of the fact before me now?’ he replied, looking from the one to the other. ‘Ah, yes!’ said Helena, coolly, while the flush died from her cheek, and the smile faded from her lips. ‘Would you mind helping me off with my mantle? Thanks. There comes Hugo von Birkenau, and there is our first batch of girls, Miss Blisset. What is the programme for this afternoon?’ She was all business now; had tied on a great holland apron, studded with baggy-looking pockets, and slung a huge pair of scissors by a string round her slim waist. Adrienne was accoutred in a similar manner. Helena stopped some of the girls who were coming in, to make them carry a pile of calico to the workroom. Raising his hat, Sebastian left them to their labours, and joined Hugo outside. Half of the great warehouse had been temporarily cleared, and accommodated with benches and half a dozen huge deal tables. This afternoon was to be a ‘cutting-out’ lesson--a lesson which, sooth to say, Helena had had to learn herself for the occasion, from her mother. The two young ladies, with some half-dozen others, who rapidly followed on Helena’s steps, each took a class, and began their instructions; the women and girls standing round, and many a dozen of them receiving their first impressions as to the practical construction of the clothes they wore. The directions were clear and simple enough; care was taken, by questionings and cross-questionings, that the pupils should thoroughly understand what was being explained to them. When the ‘cutting out’ was over, they were shown how to fix the things, and as they all sat doing this, each one bringing up her performance when it was complete, for approval or correction, there was much talking, and some singing, chiefly of hymns, in very high, and generally in minor keys. It was very fatiguing work: the long standing, the continuous talking, explaining, expounding, arranging and rearranging for the stiff, unaccustomed fingers, formed no light task. After more than two hours and a half of such labour, it was time to go. The work was folded up, piled in heaps, laid on one side, and the pupils prepared to leave. Adrienne and Helena, both very tired, stood at the door, counting them as they filed out. ‘Three hundred and five,’ they exclaimed together, as the last one departed, and they smiled, and turned inside the room again, to divest themselves of their aprons and shears. ‘Miss Blisset, will you not come home with me, and have some tea?’ asked Helena, who had given the invitation several times before, and always received the same answer as on this occasion. ‘Thank you very much. I am sorry to say I cannot come.’