ess of blue silk, which so far from "standing alone" followed softly
every motion of the wearer. A simply plain shirred spring bonnet of
blue and white silk, made the blue bird comparison not altogether
unapt,--the bird was hardly more fair and dainty in his way than the
lady in hers. She stood still for a minute, shading her eyes with her
hand, and looking off down the road; a slight, delicate figure, with
that sort of airy grace which has a natural poise for every
position,--then she turned abruptly and knocked at the door.

Now it was Miss Bezac's custom to let applicants open and shut for
themselves, her hands being often at a critical point of work; so in
this case, with a refractory flower half adjusted--while Faith was in
the intricacies of a knot of ribband, she merely cried, "Come in!" And
the young lady came--so far as across the threshold,--there she
stopped. A quick, sudden stop,--one little ungloved hand that looked as
if it had never touched anything harsher than satin, clasped close upon
its gloved companion; the shawl falling from her shoulders and shewing
the bunch of crocuses in her belt; the fair, sweet, high bred
face--sparkling, withal flushing like a June rose. For a minute she
stood, her bright eyes seeing the room, the work, and Miss Bezac, but
resting on Faith with a sort of intenseness of look that went from face
to hand. Then her own eyes fell, and with a courteous inclination of
her head, she came for ward and spoke.

"I was told," she said, advancing slowly to the table, and still with
downcast eyes,--"I was told that--I mean--Can you make a sunbonnet for
me, Miss Bezac?" She looked up then, but only at the little dressmaker,
laying one hand on the table as if to support herself, and with a face
grave enough to suit a nun's veil instead of a sunbonnet.

Faith's eyes were held on this delicate little figure with a sort of
charm; she was very unlike the Pattaquasset models. At the antipodes
from Miss Essie De Staff--etherial compared to the more solid
proprieties of Sophy Harrison,--Faith recognized in her the type of
another class of creatures. She drew back a little from the table,
partly to leave the field clear to Miss Bezac, partly to please herself
with a better view.

"A sunbonnet?" Miss Bezac repeated,--"I should be sorry if I couldn't,
and badly off too. But I'm afraid you'll be, for a pattern,--all I've
got are as common as grass. Not that I wish grass was uncommon,
either--but w