hidden something beneath which in reality makes them both natural and
probable, as was the case here. In half an hour these two women were
sitting talking like old friends; and Hilary had explained her
present position, needs and desires. They ended in the one
cry--familiar to how many thousands more of helpless young women!--"I
want work!"

Miss Balquidder listened thoughtfully. Not that it was a new
story--alas! she heard it every day; but there was something new in
the telling of it; such extreme directness and simplicity, such utter
want of either false pride or false shame, No asking of favors, and
yet no shrinking from well-means kindness; the poor woman speaking
freely to the rich one, recognizing the common womanhood of both, and
never supposing for an instant that mere money or position could make
any difference between them.

The story ended, both turned, as was the character of both, to the
practical application of it--what it was exactly that Hilary needed,
and what Miss Balquidder could supply.

The latter said, after a turn or two up and down the room, with her
hands behind her--the only masculine trick she had--

"My dear, before going further, I ought to tell you one thing--I am
not a lady."

Hilary looked at her in no little bewilderment.

"That is," explained Miss Balquidder, laughing, "not an educated
gentlewoman like you. I made my money myself--in trade. I kept an