“Sure an’ it’s me that ’ud better make haste afore she has time to change her mind again; for it won’t be long it’ll take her to do that same.” There was a knock at the side gate, and Kathleen flew to open it, the rose on her cheek deepening and her pretty blue eyes dancing with delight. “It’s only me, Kathleen, me darlint!” cried a cheery voice. “Sure and don’t I know your knock, Rory?” she responded, drawing back the bolt and admitting a strapping young Irishman. “But come into the kitchen; I’ve got the Madame’s breakfast over the fire, and can’t stop here to spake two words to ye,” she added, running back, he following close at her heels. “Has the Madame sint down her orders yet?” he asked, sitting down beside the fire and watching the girl’s movements with admiring eyes. “No; she’s just up, and I’m thinking the horses’ll be likely to rest till after dinner anyhow, for she’s got a dressmaker at work makin’ up that illegant silk she bought yesterday, and she’ll be wantin’ to get fit, you know.” “Av coorse. Well, I’m contint, since me wages goes on all the same, an’ maybe I’ll have the more time to sit here with you.” “Maybe so, and maybe not,” said Kathleen, turning her muffins; “they’ll maybe be wantin’ me up there to run the machine.” “I wish it was to make a silk gown for yersilf, jewel; the Madame’s got a plinty now, and all the fine dresses as iver was made couldn’t make her look half as purty as you do in that nate calico. Things isn’t avenly divided in this world, Kathleen, mavourneen.” “Sure now, Rory, the good things isn’t all on one side, afther all,” returned Kathleen, laughing. “Wouldn’t the Madame give all her fine dresses, and silver and goold too, for my health and strength or yours?” “That she would; or for your illegant figger and purty skin that’s just like lilies and roses, and your eyes that shine brighter than her diamonds.” “Whist!” cried Kathleen, hastily lifting her coffee-pot from the fire just as Mary opened the dining-room door with the query: “Is breakfast ready?” “Everything’s done to a turn,” said Kathleen. “And here’s Rory ready to carry it up, if ye like.” “No, she has changed her mind; she’ll eat in the breakfast-room. Rory’s to bring her down in the elevator, and take her up again in it when she’s done.” When Madame had duly discussed her breakfast, and recovered breath after her ascent to her private apartments, Floy was summoned to her presence. The young girl came quietly into the dressing-room, where the lady reclined in a large easy chair. Madame started at sight of her, uttering a low exclamation. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling a little as she spoke, “and what is your name?” “I am one of Mrs. Sharp’s apprentices, and my name is Florence Kemper. I have cut and basted the lining of your dress; shall I fit it on you now?” “Yes--no; Mary will put it on me and see if it is all right. Mary knows my ways.”