"It is not Phebe. Baby's name is Victoria Mary." Mrs. Colston had long ago commenced the training of her lips, and for a moment did not speak. "And may the little dear always have the victory. That's my wish for her." "And you don't think it sounds ridiculous then?" asked Phebe, raising herself up on her elbow, "I mean for a draper's daughter?" "Certainly not; why shouldn't a draper's daughter have as good a name as anybody else? I hope she will grow up a real queenie." "I was thinking, dear Mrs. Colston, as you came into the garden, that the process of Christian-making is slow work with me. Indeed, sometimes I am afraid it has stopped altogether." "Not it, my dear; not a wee bit of it," stroking her hair. "If you had said, 'I'm getting on fine--shall soon be a saint,' I should have said it was pretty nigh all up with you. But, bless you, my dear, you've got that feeling just now because the Lord's been dealing with you. I watched old Robert in the spring cutting his vine; my, there was a slaughtering! I fancy the poor old vine thought it was almost done for, but you should just see it now!" * * * * * As Mrs. Colston stepped out of the shop door that evening she nearly fell into the arms of Neighbour Bessie, as Phebe loved to call her. "How is Mrs. Waring?" Bessie asked anxiously. "Do you think she is all right?" "Yes, she'll get on with care." "Oh, she is a dumpling!" said the girl, with all her impulsive enthusiasm. "Well then, take care and keep her warm, for cold dumplings aren't up to much! She needs a lot of warmth--love, that's what I mean." "I'll see she has that," exclaimed Bessie, "if my sort is any good." "All real love is good, my dear, you may be sure of that." That night as the old mangle started its tune again, these were the words that went along with it. "There, bless me, how that dear Miss Phebe of mine has won those two girls! Why, she'll win them for Jesus yet. I know she will! Yes, I dare say she thinks she's done nothing. How little we can judge of our own work, or, come to that, of anybody else's, either. It's only our dear heavenly Father, who gets such a high view of things, seeing all over and into all the corners, that can really know how we're getting along." CHAPTER IV A TESTING TIME Two years went by, each day filled for Phebe, except the Sundays, with housework, care of the child, and looking after the business. From Monday till Saturday she hardly ever crossed the outer doorstep. "It will not be always like this," she said to her sister, who remonstrated with her. "When Ralph has got the business well established he will be able to afford more help."