or
fuller confidence, which Liz, however, had not the remotest intention of
giving.

'I dinna think, judgin' frae appearances, that ye have bettered
yoursel', said the little seamstress slowly.

'Ye think richt. I made wan mistake, Teen--the biggest mistake o' a','
she replied, and her mouth became very stern and bitter, and a dull
gleam was visible in her eyes.

Teen waited breathlessly, in the hope that Liz would still confide in
her, but having thus delivered herself, she again relapsed into silence.

'What way are ye bidin' at Maryhill?' she asked after a bit, and the
same note of suspicion which had been in Walter's questions sounded
through her voice. It made the colour rise in the sharply-outlined cheek
of Liz, and she replied angrily,--

'It's news ye're wantin', an' ye're no' gaun to get it. Ye brocht me
here again' my wull, but ye'll no' cross-question me. I can gang hame
even yet. It's no' the first time I've gane hame in the mornin',
onyway.'

Teen wisely accepted the inevitable.

'Ye're no' gaun wan fit oot o' this hoose the nicht,' she replied
calmly, 'nor the morn either, unless I ken whaur ye are gaun. I dinna
think, Liz, ye hae dune very weel for yersel' this while; ye'd better
let me look efter ye. Twa heids are aye better than yin.'

'Ye're gaun to be the boss, I see,' said Liz, with a faint smile, and in
her utter weariness she let her head fall back again and closed her
eyes. 'If I wis to bide here the morn, an' Wat comes, he'd better no'
ask me ower mony questions, because I'll no' stand it frae neither you
nor him, mind that.'

'Naebody'll ask you questions, my dear,' said Teen, and, lifting back
the table, she folded down the bed, and shook up the old wool pillows,
wishing for her friend's sake that they were made of down. Then she
knelt down on the old rag-carpet, and began to unlace Liz's boots,
glancing ever and anon with sad eyes up into the white face, with its
haggard mouth and dark closed eyes.

'Ye are a guid sort, Teen, upon my word,' was all the thanks she got. 'I
believe I will gang to my bed, if ye'll let me; maybe, if ye kent a', ye
wad turn me oot to the street.'

'No' me. If the a's waur than I imagine, it's gey bad,' replied the
little seamstress. 'Oh, Liz, I'm that gled to see you, I canna dae
enough.'

'I've been twice up your stair, Teen; once I knockit at the door an'
then flew doon afore you could open't. Ye think ye've a hard time o't,
but there's waur thing