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. 

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