A milliner in the employment of another firm had been terribly nervous one morning when displaying some hats for her to choose from. She was young and attractive-looking, but there were traces of tears in her eyes, and her hands trembled visibly. Her employer was in the showroom, and watched the movements of the girl with a stern face. Kathleen's quick instinct divined that the girl was in trouble, probably in fear of losing her situation, and this, she happened to know, would be a serious matter to her, on account of an invalid mother, to whom her help and presence were essential.
Turning to the master of the place, Kathleen said, with her most winning smile—
"I have been looking at these pattern-hats, which I suppose I ought to consider perfect, but I shall not choose from amongst them. I much prefer the modifications produced under the superintendence of your own milliner, whose superior taste is often commended by my friends."
Kathleen mentioned the names of several of the proprietor's most valued customers, and gave her own order in accordance with her words. She chose only the colour she desired, and with a bright smile said to the young milliner, "I know I can leave all else to your good taste. You have always pleased mine."
The words were spoken loudly enough to be heard by the proprietor, who bowed the rich Miss Mountford out of his establishment with a face wreathed in smiles, after Kathleen had bade the girl good morning, and received a volume of grateful thanks expressed in her changed looks.
"I said nothing but the truth," was Kathleen's comment, when at a future visit the young milliner was able to express her thanks in words.
"You saved me and my mother," replied the girl. "Had I been dismissed, I must have sought a situation elsewhere, and, probably, at a distance. My mother could not have been removed, and I am sure the parting would have shortened her life."
It was generally either through something Geraldine did or said that Kathleen learned these lessons of thought for others, but she was an apt scholar. Sometimes, indeed, her impulsive nature would distance Ger's prudence, and she would say and do more than was necessary in a really good cause.
"You are so wise, Ger, as well as generous," she would say, "and I am always running into extremes. Never mind. Better do too much than too little, or nothing."
On this morning at Mellingham she was somewhat exercised in her mind about Miss Pritchard. She wished the new gown to be completed by the week end, but the sight of Miss Pritchard's pale face decided her to say—