Half an hour afterward, Maggie was ringing at the door of Mrs. Lauder’s house. It was a very handsome one, handsomely furnished, and the show-rooms were gay with the newest fashions. Maggie’s beauty and fine figure was an instant commendation. “Can you sew well, and cut, and fit?” asked Mrs. Lauder.
“‘Deed, ma’am, I think I can. I was wi’ Miss Jean Anderson o’ Largo for twa years. She’ll say the gude word for me, every way.”
“I shall want you to be part of the day in the salesroom; but I will provide you a suitable dress for that purpose; and I will give you ten shillings a week, at first. Will that do?”
“It will do weel, ma’am.”
“What is your name?”
“Maggie Promoter.”
“Come to-morrow, Miss Promoter.”
“Folks aye call me Maggie.”
“Very well. Come to-morrow, Maggie.”
The dress provided by Mrs. Lauder was a long, plain, black merino, tightly fitting, with small turned back linen cuffs and collar; and Maggie looked exceedingly handsome and stately in it. Her work was not hard, but the hours were long, and there was no outlook. She could not lift her head and catch from the sea the feeling of limitless space and freedom. Still she was happy. It was better to live among strangers who always gave her the civil word, than to be with kin who used the freedom of their relationship only to wound and annoy her. And her little room was always a sanctuary in which she found strength and peace. Also, the Sabbath was all her own; and her place in the kirk to which she regularly went was generally filled an hour before service bells. That kirk was a good place to Maggie. She was one of those delightsome women, who in this faithless age, have a fervent and beautiful faith in God. Into His temple she took no earthly thought, but kept her heart, there,