"So I have been, and in a sense it is finished and beautiful, I am sure; but there aint no feather-st.i.tching. I can't manage the feather-st.i.tching. I can never featherst.i.tch any more, Alison. Maybe for a short time longer I may go on with plain needlework, but that special twist and the catching up of the loop in the quilting part of the feather-st.i.tching, it's beyond me, darlin'. 'Taint that I can't see how to do it, 'taint that I aint willing, but it's the finger and thumb, dearie; they won't meet to do the work proper. It's all over, love, all the money-making part of my work. It's them letters to Australia, love. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"

Grannie laid her white head down on the table. It was a very sad sight to see it there, a much more pathetic sight than it had been to see Alison's golden head in the same position an hour or two ago. There was plenty of hope in Alison's grief, heart-broken as it seemed, but there was no hope at all in the old woman's despair. The last time she had given way and spoken of her fears to Alison she had sobbed; but she shed no tears now--the situation was too critical.

"_Ef_ you had only learned the st.i.tch," she said to her granddaughter.

There was a faint shadow of reproach in her tone. "I can't show it to you now; but ef you had only learned it."

"But I do know it," said Alison, in distress.

"Not proper, dear; not as it should be done. I fear that I can never show you now."

"And that is why you want me to marry Jim?" said Alison. "I wonder at you, Grannie--you who have such pride!"

"There are times and seasons," said Grannie, "when pride must give way, and it seems to me that we have come to this pa.s.s. I looked at Jim when he was talking to-day, and I saw clear--clear as if in a vision--that he would never cast up to you those words that you dread.

If you are never cleared of that theft, Alison, Jim will never call his wife a thief. Jim is good to the heart's core, and he is powerful rich, and ef you don't marry him, my gel, you'll soon be starving, for I can't do the feather-st.i.tching. I can't honestly do the work. I'll go and see the manager to-morrow morning; but it's all up with me, child. You ought to marry Jim, dear, and you ought to provide a home for the two little ones--for Polly and little Kitty."

"And what's to become of you, Grannie, and Dave, and Harry, and Annie?"

"Maybe Jim would take Annie too, now that he is so rich."

"Do you think it would be right to ask him?"

"No, I don't; no, I don't. Well, anyhow, it is good to have half the fam'ly put straight. You will think of it, Ally, you will think of it; you've got a whole week to think of it in."

"I will think of it," said Alison, in a grave voice.

She got up presently; she was feeling very restless and excited.

"I think I'll go out for a bit," she said.

"Do, child, do; it will bring a bit of color into your cheeks."

"Is there anything I can get for you, Grannie--anything for Christmas?

You said we were to be happy till after Christmas."

"So we will; I have made up my mind firm on that p'int. We'll have a right good Christmas. There's three pounds in my purse. We'll spend five shillings for Christmas Day. That ought to give us a powerful lot o' good food. Oh, yes, we'll manage for Christmas."

"This is Tuesday," said Alison, "and Christmas Day comes Friday. Shall I get any of the things to-night, Grannie?"

Grannie looked up at the tall girl who stood by her side. She saw the restless, agitated expression on the young face.

"She'll like to have the feel of money in her hands again," thought the little woman. "I'll trust her with a shillin'. Lor', I hope she'll be careful with it. Twelve pennies can do a mint ef they're spent careful."

She went slowly to her cupboard, took her keys out of her pocket, unlocked it with her left hand, and, taking her little purse from a secret receptacle at the back of the cupboard, produced a shilling from her h.o.a.rd.

"There," she said, "for the Lord's sake don't drop it; put it safe in your pocket. You might get the raisins for the puddin' and the sugar and the flour out o' this. You choose from the bargain counter, and use your eyes, and don't buy raisins what have got no fruit in 'em.

Sometimes at bargain counters they are all skin, and good for nothink; but ef you are sharp you can sometimes pick up right good fruity fruit, and that's the sort we want. Now, don't be long away. Yes, for sure, we may as well have the stuff for the puddin' in the house."

Alison promised to be careful. She put on her neat black hat and jacket and went out. She had scarcely gone a hundred yards before she came straight up against Louisa Clay. Louisa looked very stylish in a large mauve-colored felt hat, and a fur boa round her neck; her black hair was much befrizzed and becurled. Alison shrank from the sight of her, and was about to go quickly by when the other girl drew up abruptly.

"Why, there you are," she said; "I was jest thinking of coming round to see yer."

Alison stood still when she was addressed, but she did not make any remark. Her intention was to go on as soon as ever Louisa had finished speaking. Louisa's own intention was quite different.

"Well, I am glad," she continued. "I have a lot of things to say. Do you know your place is filled up?"

"Yes," said Alison, flushing. "Jim told me."

"Jim!" repeated Louisa, with a note of scorn. "Don't you think you are very free and easy with Mr. Hardy? And when did you see him?" she added, a jealous light coming into her eyes.

"He was at our house this afternoon. I must say good-evening now, Louisa. I am in a hurry; I am doing some errands for Grannie."

"Oh, I don't mind walking a bit o' the way with you. You are going shopping, is it?"

"Well, yes; Christmas is near, you know."

Alison felt herself shrinking more and more from Louisa. She hated her to walk by her side. It irritated her beyond words to hear her speak of Jim. She dreaded more than she could tell Louisa finding out how poor they were; nothing would induce her to get the bargain raisins or any of the other cheap things in her presence.

"I am rather in a hurry," she said; "perhaps you won't care to go so fast."

"As it happens, I have nothing special to do. I'll go with you now, or I'll call in by and by and have a chat. I don't know that old Grannie of yours, but folks say she's quite a character. Jim said so last night when he was supping at our house."

"I am sure he didn't," muttered Alison under her breath angrily; but she refrained from making any comment aloud.

"Well," said Louisa, "you'd like to know what sort of girl is coming to Shaw's to take up your work?"

"I don't think I would," replied Alison; "I am really not interested."

"I wonder you care to tell such lies, Alison Reed! Anyone can tell by your face that you are just burning with curiosity and jealousy."

"You mustn't say such things to me," said Alison; "if you do, I won't walk with you."

"Oh, my word, how grand we are!" said the other girl; "how high and mighty, and all the rest of it! To be sure, Alison, you were a flat to run off the way you did that day. There is not a person in the shop that don't think you guilty, and small blame to 'em, I say. Poor Jim did fret a bit the first day or two, but I think he's pretty happy now; he comes to our house constant. He's very fine company is Jim, he sings so well; and did you know he had a turn for acting? We're getting up a little play for Christmas Eve, and Jim's to be the hero; I'm the heroine. My word! it's as pretty a bit of love-making as you'd often see. I tell you what it is, Alison; I'll give you an invitation.

You shall come and see it; you will now, won't you? I'll think you're devoured with jealousy if you don't. You will; say you will."

Alison paused for a moment--a sort of inward rage consumed her. How dared Jim profess such love for her, and yet give up so much of his time to Louisa--how dared he make love to her even in play! A sudden fierce resolve came into her heart. Yes, she would see the acting--she would judge for herself. Christmas Eve, that was Thursday night--Thursday was a good way off from Tuesday, the day when she was to give Jim her answer. As she walked now by Louisa's side, she guessed what her answer would be--she would be careful and cautious--oh, yes, she would see for herself.

"I will come," she said suddenly, and to Louisa's great surprise--"I will come, if you promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Don't tell Jim Hardy--don't say anything about it. When he sees me he'll know, but don't tell him beforehand."

Louisa burst into a loud, scathing laugh.

"To hear you speak, Alison," she said, "one would think that you were somebody of consequence to Mr. Hardy. Oh, dear--oh, dear, the conceit of some folks! Do you suppose it would make any _difference_ to him whether you came or not? But take my word for it, I won't tell him."

"Thank you," said Alison. "Yes, I'll be there. What time shall I come?"

"The acting begins at nine o'clock, but there's supper first at eight; you had best come to supper. I will put you in a corner where you can't get even a sight of Jim's face, then you'll be easy and happy in your mind."