outfitter's shop."

"You must have kept it uncommonly well," was the involuntary reply,
which, in its extreme honesty and naivete, was perhaps the best thing
that Hilary could have said.

"Well, perhaps I did," and Miss Balquidder laughed her hearty laugh,
betraying one of her few weaknesses--a consciousness of her own
capabilities as a woman of business, and a pleasure at her own
deserved success.

"Therefore, you see. I can not help you as a governess. Perhaps I
would not if I could, for, so far as I see, a good clearance of one
half the governesses into honest trades would be for their own
benefit, and greatly to the benefit of the other half. But that's not
my affair. I only meddle with things I understand. Miss Leaf, would
you be ashamed of keeping a shop?"

It is no reflection upon Hilary to confess that this point-blank
question startled her.--Her bringing up had been strictly among the
professional class; and in the provinces sharper than even in London
is drawn the line between the richest tradesman who "keeps a shop,"
and the poorest lawyer, doctor, or clergyman who ever starved in
decent gentility. It had been often a struggle for Hilary Leaf's
girlish pride to have to teach A B C to little boys and girls whose
parents stood behind counters; but as she grew older she grew wiser,
and intercourse with Robert Lyon had taught her much. She never
forgot, one day, when Selina asked him something about his
grandfather or great-grandfather, and he answered quickly, smiling,
"Well, I suppose I had one, but I really never heard." Nevertheless