her contentment. Thyrza was so beautiful, and, it seemed to her,
so weak; always dreaming of something beyond and above the life which
was her lot; so deficient in the practical qualities which that life
demanded. At moments Lydia saw her responsibility in a light which
alarmed her.

They worked at a felt-hat factory, as 'trimmers;' that is to say, they
finished hats by sewing in the lining, putting on the bands, and the
like. In the busy season they could average together wages of about a
pound a week; at dull times they earned less, and very occasionally had
to support themselves for a week or two without employment. Since the
age of fourteen Lydia herself had received help from no one; from
sixteen she had lived in lodgings with Thyrza, independent. Mr. Boddy
was then no longer able to do more than supply his own needs, for
things had grown worse with him from year to year. Lydia occasionally
found jobs for her free hours, and she had never yet wanted. She was
strong, her health had scarcely ever given her a day's uneasiness;
there never came to her a fear lest bread should fail. But Thyrza could
not take life as she did. It was not enough for that imaginative nature
to toil drearily day after day, and year after year, just for the sake
of earning a livelihood. In a month she would be seventeen; it was too
true, as she had said to-night, that she was no longer a child. What
might happen if the elder sister's influence came to an end? Thyrza
loved her: how Lydia would have laughed at anyone who hinted that the
love could ever weaken! But it was not a guard against every danger.

It was inevitable that Lydia should have hoped that her sister might
marry early. And one man she knew in whom--she scarcely could have told
you why--her confidence was so strong that she would freely have
entrusted him with Thyrza's fate. Thyrza could not bring herself to
think of him as a husband. It was with Ackroyd that Lydia's thoughts
were busy as she lay wakeful. Before to-night she had not pondered so
continuously on what she knew of him. For some two years he had been an
acquaintance, through the Bowers, and she had felt glad when it was
plain that he sought Thyrza's society. 'Yes,' she had said to herself,
'I like him, and feel that he is to be relied upon.' Stories, to be
sure, had reached her ears; something of an over-fondness for
conviviality; but she had confidence. To-night she seemed called upon
to review all her impressions.