Meanwhile Floy toiled on at the dress, her thoughts now with Espy in his anxiety and grief, now dwelling mournfully upon the past, memory and imagination bringing vividly before her the loved faces that should gladden her eyes no more on earth, and causing her to hear again each well-remembered tone of the dear voices now silent in the tomb. She longed to seek out a solitary place and weep, but the luxury of tears was not for her; she forced them back, silently asking help to obey the command to be ever “rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation.” Hope! ah, she had not lost that even for this life. Espy still lived, still loved her; they might yet be restored to each other. And her mother--that unknown yet already dearly-loved mother--who should say how soon she would be given to her prayers and efforts? Her needle flew more swiftly, while a tender, loving smile played about her lips and shone in her dark, lustrous eyes. The Madame came home panting and wheezing, but elated with her success in shopping. She was quite ready for Christmas, and it might come as soon as it pleased. But--ah, there was the dress! “Are you going to get it done to-day?” she asked, sinking into a chair in front of Floy, and glancing anxiously from her to the garment and back again. “I shall try, Madame, but fear it is doubtful,” Floy replied, raising her eyes for an instant to her interrogator’s face. The Madame started, changed color, and seemed quite agitated for a moment. Then recovered herself. “The girls shall both help you,” she said, “and you won’t mind working in the evening, will you? You’ll not need to go back to Mrs. Sharp’s to-night, will you?” “No, Madame; and I may as well work late here as there.” The Madame thanked her, and left the room with a mental resolve that the girl should not lose by her willingness to oblige. “I’m worn out, Mary,” she said to her maid, who was bestowing in a closet in the dressing-room the numerous parcels which she and Rory had just brought upstairs; “change my dress for a wrapper, and I’ll lie down and take a nap while you and Katty help with the dress. You’re not too tired, I suppose?” “No, of course not; it isn’t my place ever to be too tired for anything you wish done,” grumbled Mary, putting the last package upon the closet shelf and closing the door with a little more force than was necessary. Then half ashamed of her petulance, in view of the generous way in which her mistress had just been laying out money in gifts for herself and her brother, “I’ll do my best, Madame,” she added in a pleasant tone, “but I hope you’ll take a light supper to-night for your own sake as well as mine.” “I’m quite as anxious to rest well at night as you can be to have me, Mary,” returned the Madame in an injured tone, as she sat down and began herself to unfasten and remove her outer wrappings. “Yes, I suppose so, Madame, and you must excuse my free speaking,” responded Mary, coming to her assistance.