ses.

"That's plenty at two guineas," Hugh said of one.

"It's a Paris model," said Millie.

"Nothing in her. Nothing."

"Not much material, I grant," Millie observed. "The style is fashionable
and they charge a lot."

"I like to see you in her," said Hugh. "Take in the points and make her
with an odd length of silk."

When the blouse was finished, Hugh took it to a man at whose shop trade
the poorest sort of middle-class women, saying: "I can let you have a
line like this at thirty-five and six a dozen."

"I'll try three twelves," said the man.

Then Hugh went into the City and fetched up Japanese silk, and lace, and
large white buttons; and Millie sewed with her might.

Hugh thrived, and his success was noised among the London Welsh. The
preacher of Kingsend Chapel visited him.

"Not been in the Temple you have, Mistar Eevanss, almost since you were
spliced," he said. "Don't say the wife makes you go to the capel of the
English."

"Busy am I making money."

"News that is to me, Mistar Eevanss. Much welcome there is for you with
us."

In four years Hugh had eighteen machines, at each of which a skilled
woman sat; and he hired young girls to sew through buttons and
hook-and-eyes and to make button-holes. These women and girls were under
the hand of Millie, who kept count of their comings and goings and the
work they performed, holding from their wages the value of the material
they spoilt and of the minutes they were not at their task. Millie
labored faithfully, her heart being perfect with her husband's. She and
Hugh slept in the kitchen, for all the other rooms were stockrooms or
workrooms; and the name by which the concern was called was "The French
Model Blouse Co. Manageress--Mme. Zetta, the notorious French Modiste."

Howsoever bitterly people were pressed, Hugh did not cease to prosper.
In riches, honor, and respect he passed many of the London Welsh.

For that he could not provide all the blouses that were requested of
him, he rented a big house. That hour men were arrived to take thereto
his belongings, Millie said: "I'll throw the Paisley shawl over my arm.
I wouldn't lose it for anything"; and as she moved away the ten-pound
note fell on the ground. "Well, I never!" she cried in her dismay. "It
was there all the time."

Hugh seized the note from her hand.

"You've the head of a sieve," he said. Also he lamented: "All these
years we had no interest in him."

XIII

PROFIT AND GLO