ly six
o'clock. I'll take the tea-pot down, dear.'

When they were seated at the table, Lydia drew from her pocket a
shilling and held it up laughingly.

'That from Mrs. Isaacs?' her sister asked.

'Yes. Not bad for Saturday afternoon, is it? Now I must take my boots
to be done. If it began to rain I should be in a nice fix; I haven't a
sole to walk on.'

'I just looked in at Mrs. Bower's as I passed,' she continued
presently. 'Mr. Ackroyd was there. He'd come to tell grandad of some
work. That was kind of him, wasn't it?'

Thyrza assented absently.

'Is Mary coming to tea to-morrow?' she asked.

'Yes. At least she said she would if I'd go to chapel with her
afterwards. She won't be satisfied till she gets me there every Sunday.'

'How tiresome, Lyddy!'

'But there's somebody wants you to go out as well. You know who.'

'You mean Mr. Ackroyd?'

'Yes. He met me when I came out of Mrs. Bower's, and asked me if I
thought you would.'

Thyrza was silent for a little, then she said:

'I can't go with him alone, Lyddy. I don't mind if you go too.'

'But that's just what he doesn't want,' said her sister, with a smile
which was not quite natural.

Thyrza averted her eyes, and began to speak of something else. The meal
was quickly over, then Lydia took up some sewing. Thyrza went to the
window and stood for a while looking at the people that passed, but
presently she seated herself, and fell into the brooding which her
sister's entrance had interrupted. Lydia also was quieter than usual;
her eyes often wandered from her work to Thyrza. At last she leaned
forward and said:

'What are you thinking of, Blue-eyes?'

Thyrza drew a deep sigh.

'I don't know, Lyddy. It's so hot, I don't feel able to do anything.'

'But you're always thinking and thinking. What is it that troubles you?'

'I feel dull.'

'Why don't you like to go out with Mr. Ackroyd?' Lydia asked.

'Why do you so much want me to, Lyddy?'

'Because he thinks a great deal of you, and it would be nice if you got
to like him.'

'But I shan't, never;--I know I shan't.'

'Why not, dear?'

'I don't _dislike_ him, but he mustn't get to think it's any thing
else. I'll go out with him if you'll go as well,' she added, fixing her
eyes on Lydia's.

The latter bent to pick up a reel of cotton.

'We'll see when to-morrow comes,' she said.

Silence again fell between them, whilst Lydia's fingers worked rapidly.
The evening drew on. Thyrza took h