“That’s it—fitted out! And oh, there’s one thing—yes, shoes. Be very careful about that, Hulda! I want her to have some perfectly delightful shoes—the nicest you can get, and quite a lot of them—all she can use. And oh, another thing—gloves. Quite extraordinary gloves! Don’t forget those two things, Hulda—shoes—gloves. They’re really the most important of all!” “I’ll do my best, sir.” “And about the dresses—several different varieties—all of them the most satisfactory in every respect. And then—get the—the—” (making motions up and down his body to illustrate) “underthings, you know. Don’t fail to have them the nicest that are made. I’m sure this is a very important—er—phase of the matter.” “Yes sir, it is.” “And hats—of course she’ll need a few of those. And some fur things—don’t fail to get some fur things. She was shivering yesterday.” “I’ll do the best I can, Mr. Haworth, but wouldn’t it be better to buy easy at first? Say, to-day a ready-made dress or two an’ a pair o’ shoes an’ a few things, an’ let the rest come gradual? I’m only thinking of ’er feelings as not being equal to it if all the things was to come at a jump, as one might say.” “That’s perfectly true. Her feelings must be treated with the greatest care!” He glanced at the stairway through the open door. “I’ll go upstairs now, sir; but I’m sure you needn’t to feel uneasy about it.” And Hulda went up the stairway and a moment later could be heard gently knocking at Mrs. Findlay’s door. When he finally heard Hulda coming down again his heart pounded so violently that he was sure it shook him. A mechanical notion flashed in his mind that his pumping plant was too powerful for the frame. He found himself, too, hardly able to turn and face the maid when she came to the door. “It’s all right, sir,” she said. “An’ we’ll be going in as soon as I finish the rooms. An’ if you please, sir, she’d like to speak to you before we go.” The relief was unspeakable. She wasn’t angry or offended. And she’d wear things that he gave her. So everything was arranged and Haworth gave Hulda enough money for the first day, not noticing or thinking for an instant that he was making an ugly excavation in what was supposed to carry him on for a year. When the maid had gone for her hat and cloak, Haworth waited about in the hall. At last he heard Edith coming down and went to meet her at the foot of the stairs. Seeing him, she stopped before she was quite down. The thought came to him that he wished she could stay there—on the stairs—a little above him—instead of going to town. Couldn’t that, perhaps, be put off until the next day? Her voice, slightly tremulous, interrupted his meditations. “I’m awfully sorry I acted so,” was what she said. “Please forgive me.” He looked up in her face, drinking in with his eyes something indescribable and inconceivable that came to him from hers.