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stubborn self-willed character, and she must accept it as such. However, it was all of no consequence now. Her connection with Marsh, such as it had been, was at an end. They would not meet again, except by chance, and then only as mere acquaintances. And she would not allow her thoughts to turn again in his direction. Of that she was resolved.

It was after eleven o’clock, the next morning, when a middle-aged woman came into the shop. This was the first customer Ann had seen for two days, and she rose from the chair where she had been sitting working, and came forward. Today, being Saturday, Mrs. Hill was not in attendance, and Ann was quite alone.

“Can I show you anything?” she asked.

“I’m afraid all your pretty hats are rather too young, and gay for me,” returned the newcomer, looking round, “and I’m so old-fashioned that I’m not even shingled. No one seems to make hats for old women, nowadays.”

“But no women are old nowadays.”

The customer laughed. She had a very charming laugh. Quite as young and gay as any of the hats, thought Ann.

“Well, I’m fifty-eight. I don’t want to wear the same sort of hat as my granddaughter.”

“Why not, if it suits you?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“Well, try this one on, and see.”

She produced a plain black hat which, though neat and smart, might be worn by a girl, or a woman of more advanced age. The customer eyed it doubtfully.