did. But what excited within us the most indignation was her betrayal

that she held our father in light esteem as a man whose talents were wasted because he had not made money by them.

So Mrs. Redmayne's visits were distinct trials, and we were thankful they did not occur often. She had five children, three of whom were girls, but we knew almost nothing about our cousins except what could be gathered from an inspection of their abandoned finery, parcels of which frequently arrived for our use. Mother had too much good sense to refuse what was really a help; but I think it galled her pride to see how extravagantly our cousins were attired, though we all decided that their style of dress showed a sad lack of taste.

"Hurrah!" cried Olive as she heard Peggy's announcement. "What could be more opportune! Now we shall be able to set you up, Nan."

I shook my head.

"Not in black," I said, "if red or yellow were considered mourning in this country we might find something useful. Have you forgotten the riddle you once propounded, Olive—why is Aunt Clara like the virtuous woman of the Book of Proverbs?"

"I never heard that riddle!" cried Peggy. "What is the answer?"

"Because all her household are clothed with scarlet," I replied.

Peggy laughed and clapped her hands, but Olive said:

"That is a slight exaggeration. I don't despair of finding something that may be useful for you, Nan. Run and bring the box up here, there's a dear, Peggy. You don't mind, Nan?"

"Not at all," I replied, sitting up quite alert. Already I was feeling better. In spite of my fears for the future, the immediate prospect of a change had raised my spirits.

Peggy ran off eagerly and soon reappeared, hot and breathless, bearing, with Fred's assistance, a fair-sized dress-box into the room. We knew the box well, it went to and fro between London and Manchester pretty frequently.

Fred was as eager to see the contents of the box as any of us; but I was for turning him out of the room before we opened it.

Peggy, however, suggested that it would be a kindness to mother, who was trying to write letters below, if we let him remain, so on condition that he kept as still as he possibly could, and tried nothing on, we allowed him to share our diversion.

Funnily enough, the first things that came to light were a scarlet silk blouse and a coat of the same hue. But below was a handsome black silk gown which Aunt Clara must have worn herself, and a black cloth coat trimmed with astrachan. Evidently it had occurred to our aunt that mother would need to put on mourning.

"That will make mother a beautiful dress," said Olive, with pleasure in her voice. "It's yards too big, of course, but I can alter that. And she wants a new coat badly too. This scarlet coat will do nicely for Ethel, and this blouse I think I will do up for myself, since I am the only one of the 'grown-ups' that looks well in scarlet. Ah! look at this odious brown and yellow check Who can wear that?"

"I shall, I expect," said Peggy plaintively. "I generally have to take what nobody else likes. Oh dear! I do wish my cousins would let me choose their clothes, since I have to wear them afterwards."

I laughed at this absurd suggestion, then said:

"You see I was right, Olive; there is nothing that will do for me."

"Don't you be so sure," said Olive, diving again into the box. "I have not got to the bottom yet. Ah, what is this? A black silk sash! The very thing to trim that hat."

"That is fortunate," I said, regarding it with satisfaction; then a cry from Peggy made me turn my eyes again upon the box.

"Oh, look," she said, "at this gorgeous frock—pink satin and tulle and sequins! What a show!"

It was an evening gown of a colour far too vivid for my taste. The skirt was trampled and soiled. It had evidently done duty at several parties.

"I believe something might be made of this, Nan," said Olive, examining it with a critical air. "Veiled with black grenadine or something diaphanous, it would make you a charming evening gown. You will need one, you know, when the guests come. It is a fortunate thing that your hair is such a pretty colour and your complexion so clear that you look your best in black. And pink suits you too. See, this colour is not at all startling subdued by black."

"Oh, thank you, Olive," I said. "It is not often you are so complimentary. You generally find something wrong with my appearance."

"Because you are so careless of it," she said as she closely examined the pink bodice. "This must have been Cousin Agneta's. Aunt said she was the slightest of the three, and this waist is barely twenty inches. I hope she does not tight-lace. Ah, what are these spots on the front? I declare it looks as if she were crying bitterly when she last wore this. Poor girl!"

"Rich girl, you mean," said Peggy. "I don't believe she was crying. What can she have to cry about?"

"A good many things, I dare say, if we only knew," replied Olive. "Surely, Peggy, you are not so idiotic as to think that money is all people want to make them happy!"

"Well, rather not," said Peggy with a grimace, "seeing that we manage to be very happy without it."

"I guess one girl's heart is very much like another's," said Olive rather incoherently, "even if she does wear purple and fine linen and fare sumptuously every day. But now I must get on with this hat. Put the things back in the box and take it away, there's a dear, Peggy."

"Oh, yes; I'm always a dear when you want me to do anything," Peggy replied; but she packed them up all the same, for she was nothing if not good-tempered.

Dear old Olive put in a good many stitches for me during the next few days, and so did mother. Between them they got me ready in a week.

I felt very miserable when the hour of departure came. It was a raw, cold day, and the very thought of the journey made me feel faint and sick. I behaved like a baby at the last and Olive had to be very stern and resolute with me. She drove with me to Liverpool Street, where father met us and saw me into the express for Chelmsford. It was due there in fifty minutes, so the journey was nothing to mind if I had not been so exceedingly weak. I soon began to revive, however, and my spirits rose as the train bore me farther and farther from the gloom of London out into the heart of the clear, cold country.