h a good winter colour,' she said.

'Thank you very much,' said Sarah quietly; but her face said a great deal
more.

When Mr Cunningham joined them, Horatia insisted on his looking at the
new cloth. He admired it as much as his wife, and said, 'I wish you'd
have a dress of that shade. I'm so sick of dull colours, and this is
really becoming.'

Horatia clapped her hands. 'She's going to when Mr Clay tells us the name
of the place where you can buy it.'

'I can do that; but you would give me great pleasure if you would let me
send you a length,' said George.

And Lady Grace gracefully accepted the offer, knowing that it gave the
young man, as he said, great pleasure; and adding, 'But let me know where
it can be got in London, for I am sure to be asked.'

When they took their leave, George and Sarah looked at each other,
smiling. 'The miracle has happened, George!' the latter exclaimed.

'Thank goodness!' he said. 'Oh Sarah, if you only knew how that warehouse
full of blankets has weighed upon me!'

'Then I wonder you're alive to tell the tale,' said a cheery voice behind
him.

They both laughed. 'Oh Uncle Howroyd, isn't it lovely? Mr Cunningham has
given George such a big order, and Lady Grace is going to wear the new
shade. They've been to call.'

'I know. They called on me first,' said their uncle.

'Did you ask them to help us?' cried Sarah, her face falling.

'Nay, lass; I'm as proud as you, and I never said a word except that
young George was battling bravely. Mr Cunningham told me he had come on
purpose to see if he could get blankets, and, as a matter of fact, he
asked me; but I hadn't any ready. So, you see, it was Providence helping
those who help themselves,' he replied.

Meanwhile the Cunninghams were speeding south with the dress-length
packed in the carrier at the back of the motor.

'I don't recognise the description I heard of that family,' observed Lady
Grace Cunningham; 'and it just shows that one must never believe what one
hears, for according to you and Nanny they were very different.'

'Yes; I noticed that. And young Clay, too, is not in the least like
Maxwell's description of him. He said the young man was an easy-going
fellow, who looked always half-asleep, as if life was a bore to live, and
was only fit to lounge in fashionable drawing-rooms. I shall ask him what
he means,' said her husband.

'But that's how Sarah talked of him. I expect he's changed, and so is
she; in fact, the