daily bread. Perhaps, indeed, their lot is preferable to that of the rich who have causes of grief;--for _you_ have a constant occupation which allows little leisure for disagreeable reflection; whereas _I_ have so much time----’.--Lady Caroline checked herself, turned away, and hastily passed a handkerchief across her face. She had perhaps said more than she intended: for, from speaking of the richer and poorer classes in general terms, she had been carried into personal illustration of the truth of her remarks by pointedly placing herself and Julia in juxta-position. Miss Murray, though totally devoid of artfulness, was yet endowed with an intellect keen enough to perceive this fact: and she now learnt, then--as indeed she had previously suspected--that Lady Caroline was unhappy. But it was not for her to invite a revelation of the fair patrician’s cause of sorrow: she therefore remained silent. [Illustration] “‘Julia,’ said her ladyship, suddenly turning towards her again, and taking her hand as she thus spoke,--‘Julia,’ she repeated, in an earnest, appealing tone, ‘I will be a friend to you; but it may happen that I also shall require the aid and sympathy of a friend----’; and, once more checking herself, she sighed profoundly.--‘I would serve you night and day, dear lady!’ exclaimed the young milliner, pressing to her lips the hand which still grasped her own.--‘I have not read your disposition inaccurately, dearest girl,’ responded Lady Caroline: then, assuming a more cheerful tone, she said, ‘Be it understood, we are friends! And now you must leave me, as my mother will be enquiring after me.’--Julia received a parcel containing a variety of costly stuffs, which she was to make up into dresses for her fair patroness, and which would furnish her with work for at least a month; and, as she was leaving the room, Lady Caroline said, ‘My own maid will call upon you every Saturday evening and bring away whatever you may have finished, until the whole be complete.’--They then separated, Lady Caroline pressing Julia’s hand warmly at parting; and the young dressmaker hurried homeward, her heart beating with joy at the kindness which she had experienced and the friendship she had formed. ‘After all,’ she murmured to herself, as she ascended the stair-case to her chamber, where little Harry was sitting up to await her return.--‘after all, the adventure of the spoilt dress has proved a service, rather than an injury, to me: and perhaps,’ she added,--but it was her heart, and not her lips, that now spoke,--‘the affair of the gilt counter may likewise bring me good luck!’