“Ten minutes more would finish that, Miss Kemper, so that it could be sent home in the morning,” said Mrs. Sharp persuasively. “I am very, very weary, Mrs. Sharp,” returned the young girl respectfully; “yet to accommodate you and the customer I would work on a little longer, but it is already the Lord’s day, and the command is, ‘In it thou shalt not do any work.’” A portentous frown was darkening the face of her employer, but it changed to an expression of enforced resignation as Hetty said: “You’re right, Floy. Aunt Prue, I can’t go on any longer; and indeed what right has anybody to ask us to work as late as this?” Mrs. Sharp sat in moody silence for a moment, but, being greatly fatigued herself, presently acquiesced and followed their example, remarking: “Well, well, girls, I don’t blame you. There really is no use in killing ourselves, for nobody’ll thank us for it.” “Whatever should I do without you, Hetty!” said Floy as they two went up the stairs together. Monday morning brought a note that greatly vexed Mrs. Sharp, but to our heroine seemed a Heaven-sent relief. To the usual discomforts of the work-room were now added almost incessant squabbling between Lucian and Araminta, the whining complaints of the latter and the sickening scent of the cheap cigars frequently indulged in by the former. She had been asking herself how all this was to be endured until next Monday should take them back to their studies; and now came the answer--this request of Madame Le Conte for her services during the whole week. The lady desired some alteration in the trimming of the new dress, and had other work which only Miss Kemper could do to suit her. Mrs. Sharp fumed and fretted, grumbled and scolded, yet nevertheless the request was promptly granted. “Sure an’ I’m plazed to see ye, miss!” was Kathleen’s smiling greeting as she admitted Floy. “The Madame’s been wearyin’ for ye, and couldn’t be aisy at all, at all, till she’d got the note sint to tell ye to come. Will ye have a bite o’ breakfast?” Floy declined, and was then requested to walk right up to the sewing-room. She found Mary there, and receiving directions as to the wishes of the Madame, who had not yet risen, settled herself to her work with an odd feeling of being at home. “The Madame has taken a wonderful fancy to you, miss,” remarked Mary, gazing earnestly at the young girl, and thinking her more than ever like the miniature in her mistress’s locket. “Has she?” Floy asked in some surprise. “Yes; and I hope you’ll try to cheer her up, miss; she’s been dreadfully downhearted of late, crying ’most all day Christmas.” “No wonder; she seems to suffer so much, and to be so alone in the world, poor thing!”