Thenceforward she avoided going to Groates' Store, for any kind of reason, and if she saw Mrs. Groates or Jack coming, she would escape down a side-road to avoid meeting them. All the while her heart was longing for Jack; only, after what had gone forth about her, she could not possibly take the first step towards bringing about a happier state of things.

Had Jack believed in her still, the cloud would soon have passed off; but for a while he was to ready to believe in the tale set going by Miss Sophy Coxen, and too slow to understand its effects upon Jessie herself.

Mildred meantime found herself to be fast gaining a position as the best dressmaker in the neighbourhood. Miss Gilbert had taken care, before going away, to mention in two or three directions the fact of a capable hand within easy reach, and work began to flow in upon her with speed.

Though she had never gone through a regular apprenticeship, she possessed a remarkable aptitude for dressmaking, an aptitude so great as almost to amount to a genius for it; and she had made the most of her gift. She was a capital hand at cutting out, her fit was excellent, her taste and skill were equal to those of a first-class dressmaker, and her terms were moderate.

Moreover, she never undertook more than she had a good prospect of being able to do. Far from being in danger of robbing the Misses Coxen of their old customers, not many weeks went by before she was obliged to decline more than one dress, from sheer lack of time to make all that was offered to her; and she was also able now and then to pass on a simple "job" to the sisters, when it was really simple enough. She was too conscientious to give them work which she knew to lie beyond their powers.

Life for Mildred was no longer empty, and her health improved under the now state of things. She enjoyed her work, she liked to give satisfaction, she was glad to make nice little sums of money, and to lay by for the future, as well as to be able to do present small kindnesses.

It had soon become needful that Mildred should have two rooms, and Miss Perkins had made no difficulty about fitting up the back attic bedroom, so that the good-sized front room might be entirely given to needlework. In consideration of this, Mildred now paid double terms: so Miss Perkins was no loser by her kind action towards the forlorn and shipwrecked woman of the past.

Openings for usefulness appeared on one side and another, to be gladly welcomed by Mildred. There were the two little dressmakers to be helped, whenever an opportunity offered itself. There was Mrs. Stokes, with her pretty wee "Pet," to be called upon. There was a Sunday School class of big girls to be undertaken at the request of the Vicar.

Most of all, there was Jessie, her first Old Maxham friend—She was plainly in some sort of trouble. At present, however, she shrank into herself, refusing confidence, and Mildred could only wait, trying to interest her in the now occupation of dressmaking, to which, indeed, Jessie took with avidity, as a relief from her own thoughts.

"She may as well learn it, and by-and-by can decide whether or no she shall become a dressmaker," Mildred had said, when first offering to teach her.