an walking by her side. What
secret of recompense had the poor wretch found?

"Your father is here, Lois," she said carelessly, to break the silence.
"I saw him at the mill yesterday."

Her face kindled instantly.

"He's home, Miss Marg'et,--yes. An' it's all right wid him. Things
allus do come right, some time," she added, in a reflective tone,
brushing a fly off Barney's ear.

Margret smiled.

"Always? Who brings them right for you, Lois?"

"The Master," she said, turning with an answering smile.

Margret was touched. The owner of the mill was not a more real verity
to this girl than the Master of whom she spoke with such quiet
knowledge.

"Are things right in the mill?" she said, testing her.

A shadow came on her face; her eyes wandered uncertainly, as if her
weak brain were confused,--only for a moment.

"They'll come right!" she said, bravely. "The Master'll see to it!"

But the light was gone from her eyes; some old pain seemed to be
surging through her narrow thought; and when she began to talk, it was
in a bewildered, doubtful way.

"It's a black place, th' mill," she said, in a low voice. "It was a
good while I was there: frum seven year old till sixteen. 'T seemed
longer t' me 'n 't was. 'T seemed as if I'd been there allus,--jes'
forever, yoh know. 'Fore I went in, I had the rickets, they say:
that's what ails me. 'T hurt my head, they've told me,--made me
different frum other folks."

She stopped a moment, with a dumb, hungry look in her eyes. After a
while she looked at Margret furtively, with a pitiful eagerness.

"Miss Marg'et, I think there BE something wrong in my head. Did YOH
ever notice it?"

Margret put her hand kindly on the broad, misshapen forehead.

"Something is wrong everywhere, Lois," she said, absently.

She did not see the slow sigh with which the girl smothered down
whatever hope had risen just then, listened half-attentive as the
huckster maundered on.

"It was th' mill," she said at last. "I kind o' grew into that place
in them years: seemed to me like as I was part o' th' engines,
somehow. Th' air used to be thick in my mouth, black wi' smoke 'n'
wool 'n' smells.

"In them years I got dazed in my head, I think. 'T was th' air 'n' th'
work. I was weak allus. 'T got so that th' noise o' th' looms went on
in my head night 'n' day,--allus thud, thud. 'N' hot days, when th'
hands was chaffin' 'n' singin', th' black wheels 'n' rollers was alive,
s