"But I tell you I've not done with her yet, and shan't for many a good while," repeated Burton. "I dare say she'll be tired first if it comes to that." "Can you ever give her back what you've taken from her?" asked Anne breathlessly, trying to pierce the self-confidence she did not understand. "Well, it was something like slaving all one day and then starving the next before," said Burton, "and she lives like a lady now. You should just see the fancy-work she gets through--no dressmaking now!" Anne turned to Jane, who was sitting flushed and resentfully embarrassed in the satin armchair, looking expectantly to Richard to see her through, shocked, too, and ready to cry at this first contact and opinion of her neighbours upon her doings. "Where's your sister Lizzie, Jane?" she asked. "Out at service," replied Jane, unwillingly, fidgetting with her hands and feet. "So your coming here has meant that _she's_ got no home," said Anne. "She could have had one if she'd liked," said Burton. "The house is big enough for us all." "Thank God for His protecting grace!" said Anne, "she was able to resist the temptation." "She'd have had to go out to service in any case," said Jane, spitefully; "the neighbours was so very kind to two girls." "Jane, I knew your grandmother," said Anne, "and I know how hard she had to work to keep you two girls respectably dressed and cared for. I know you think I'm an interfering, peculiar woman and an old maid, but your grandmother was no old maid. She lost your mother who'd have worked and kept her when she was old, and instead of having an arm to lean on, she'd to work morning, noon, and night, to give you two girls a home. She was working when other people was sleeping. It's better even to go to the Union than to do as you've done." Jane, after twisting her fingers together, pulled out her handkerchief with a jerk and began to cry, thus rousing the indolent anger of Richard Burton, who, with a blustering tone, as though he wanted to shout down an opponent, burst out-- "Well, she's here now and she's not going away. And you can tell the kind neighbours that we can look after ourselves without their assistance. And as for them good girls that used to play with Jane, I know several who wouldn't have been slow to take the place. _I'll_ look after Jane all right. And we're much obliged for your visit, Miss Hilton," he continued, ironically. "We can spare you for quite a long time now. You can save yourself the walk another time. If you want to be home for dinner-time, you'd better be starting, don't you think?" Anne rose stiffly, limping with rheumatism. "Jane love, come with me," she said; "I can shelter you for a time, I can give you--" "No I won't," retorted Jane, petulantly, turning her back. Anne went slowly out of the room. Richard Burton accompanied her with offensive heartiness.