The little seamstress nodded to Walter, and he hailed a passing cab. All the time, even after they were inside the vehicle, she never relaxed her hold of Liz, but they accomplished the distance to Teen's poor little home in complete silence. Liz felt and looked like a prisoner; Walter's face wore a sad and downcast expression; the little seamstress only appeared jubilant. It was nearly midnight when they ascended the long stair to the little garret, and Liz had to pause many times in the ascent to recover her breath and to let her cough have vent. She grumbled all the way up; but when Teen broke up the fire and lit the gas she sank into an old basket-chair with a more contented expression on her face. 'Noo, ye'll hae a cup o' tea in a crack,' Teen said blithely. 'I've gotten a new teapot, Liz; the auld yin positively fell to bits. Wull ye no' bide an' drink a cup, Walter?' 'Not to-night; I think you would be better alone. But I'll come to-morrow and see you, Liz. Good-night; I am sure you will be comfortable here.' 'Oh ay, I dinna doot. I say, ye are a toff, an' nae mistake; ye micht pass for a lord,' she said, with a kind of scornful approbation. 'Ye're risin' in the scale while I'm gaun doon; but I've seen something o' life, onyhoo, an' that's aye something.' She gave him her hand, which was quite white and unsoiled, languidly, and bade him a careless good-night. As Walter went out of the kitchen, she was surprised, but not more so than he was himself, that two tears rolled down his cheeks. He dashed them away quickly, however, and when the little seamstress accompanied him to the door, he was quite calm again. 'You'll take care of her and not let her away, and I'll be eternally obliged to you. I trust you entirely,' he said quickly. Teen nodded sagaciously. 'If she gangs oot o' this hoose, she tak's me wi' her,' she said, with a determined curve on her thin lips. 'And whatever you need, come to me,' he said, with his hand in his pocket; but Teen stopped him with a quick gesture. 'I have ony amount o' money I got frae Miss Gladys.' 'Keep it for yourself. You must spend my money on Liz, and see that she wants for nothing. It strikes me a doctor is the first thing she needs, but I'll be back to-morrow. Good-night, and thank you, Teen. You are a good little soul.' 'Middlin',' replied Teen, with a jerk, and closed the door. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXIII. A FAITHFUL FRIEND. The little seamstress was in a quiver of happy excitement, which betrayed itself in her very step as she returned to the kitchen. Liz lay back in the old basket-chair with her eyes closed, and the deadly paleness of her face was very striking. 'Ye arena weel, Liz,' she said brusquely. 'It's the stair; ye never could gang up a stair, I mind, withoot bein' oot o' breath. Never mind; the kettle's bilin', an' ye'll hae yer tea in a crack.'