“Well, I suppose that we must all of us do our share of work.” Aline could not keep back the tears, which welled into her eyes and made them glisten. “Yes, it is not really the work, I should not mind the work. Indeed I am used to very hard work indeed; because, before the end, I used to have to do almost everything at home.” “What does she do to you, child? Has she been losing her temper again? Come, tell me.” “I do not like to say, but she does all kinds of things.” “Well, never mind if you do not want to tell me.” “No, I do not mind telling you; it is that I am not sure how far I should say anything to any one at all. But you will never see her and it does relieve one’s feelings to be able to speak to any one.” “Then come and sit by me and tell me all about it.” Aline came and sat by him on the old settee. “You see it is not exactly because she hits me that I mind, although I have never been hit by any one before; but she is always doing little petty things that in some ways are harder to bear than being knocked about;--for instance, when we sit down to breakfast there are always two pitchers of milk, which we have with our porridge. They are neither of them quite full, and she takes one of them and pours out some for herself and Cousin Richard, then she looks into it to see what is left and generally pours most of it into the other pitcher. After that she hands the full one to Audry and the one with only a little drop in the bottom to me.” “Does Audry know?” “Of course not,--dear Audry,--I am sure if it would benefit Audry I would go without milk altogether. I would not have her know for worlds; she would quarrel with her mother over it.” “What else does she do?” Ian asked. Aline then told the story of the packman. She did not yet know what had been done by Elspeth and the others about the linen, but she pulled up the necklace which she was wearing under her dress and shewed it to Ian. “Now is that not pretty? I have always wanted a necklace and father had promised only a little while before he died that as soon as he could afford it he would get me one; so I try to think of it as if it was father’s present.” The tears again gathered in the beautiful eyes and this time one rolled over on to her cheek. She brushed it away hastily; but Ian drew her gently towards him and kissed her for the first time. “Sweet little maiden,” he said, “I hope that God will be good to you after what you have been through in your young life.”