"I will not," he replied, answering her look; "I will listen patiently
to all you have to say. How do you propose to earn bread for yourself
and your sisters?"

"I thought of dressmaking."

"Um! Did you-- make-- the gown you have on?"

"Yes," replied Priscilla, looking down at her ungainly homespun
garment.

The rector rose to his feet and smiled in the most sweet and
benevolent way.

"I am no judge of such matters," he said, "and I may be wrong. But my
impression is that the style and cut of that dress would scarcely have
a large demand in fashionable quarters."

"Oh, sir!" Prissie blushed all over. "You know I said I should have to
learn."

"My dear child," said Mr. Hayes firmly, "when it becomes a question of
a woman earning her bread, let her turn to that path where promise
lies. There is no promise in the fit of that gown, Prissie. But here--
here there is much."

He touched her big forehead lightly with his hand.

"You must not give up your books, my dear," he said, "for,