Ann Eliza coloured. There was something vaguely embarrassing
in Evelina's suggestion.

"I always think if we ask for more what we have may be taken
from us," she ventured.

"Well, whoever took it wouldn't get much," Evelina retorted
with a laugh as she swept up the table-cloth.

A few moments later the back room was in its usual flawless
order and the two sisters had seated themselves near the lamp. Ann
Eliza had taken up her sewing, and Evelina was preparing to make
artificial flowers. The sisters usually relegated this
more delicate business to the long leisure of the summer months;
but to-night Evelina had brought out the box which lay all winter
under the bed, and spread before her a bright array of muslin
petals, yellow stamens and green corollas, and a tray of little
implements curiously suggestive of the dental art. Ann Eliza made
no remark on this unusual proceeding; perhaps she guessed why, for
that evening her sister had chosen a graceful task.

Presently a knock on the outer door made them look up; but
Evelina, the first on her feet, said promptly: "Sit still. I'll
see who it is."

Ann Eliza was glad to sit still: the baby's petticoat that she
was stitching shook in her fingers.

"Sister, here's Mr. Ramy come to look at the clock," said
Evelina, a moment later, in the high drawl she cultivated before