perfections. To come into
Edith's room had been to come into thrilling contact with reality; while
Fanny Eliott was for ever putting you off with some ingenious refinement
on it. Edith's personality had triumphed over death and time. Fanny
Eliott, poor thing, still suffered by the contrast.

Of all Anne's friends, the Gardners alone stood the test of time. She had
never had a doubt of them. They had come later into her life, after the
perishing of her great illusion. The shock had humbled her senses and
disposed her to reverence for the things of intellect. Dr. Gardner's
position, as President of the Scale Literary and Philosophic Society, was
as a high rock to which she clung. Mrs. Gardner was dear to her for many
reasons.

The dearness of Mrs. Gardner was significant. It showed that, thanks to
Peggy, Anne's humanisation was almost complete.

To-day, which was Peggy's birthday, Anne's heart was light and happy.
She had planned, that, if the day were fine, the festival was to be
celebrated by a picnic to Westleydale.

And the day was fine. Majendie had promised to be home in time to start
by the nine-fifty train. Meanwhile they waited. Peggy had helped Mary the
cook to pack the luncheon basket, and now she felt time heavy on her
little hands.

Anne suggested that they should go upstairs and help Nanna. Nanna was in
Majendie's room, turning out his drawers. On his bed there was a pile of
suits of the year before last, put aside to be given to Anne's poor
people. When Peggy was tired of fetching and carrying, she watched her
mother turning over the clothes and sorting them into heaps. Anne's
methods were rapid and efficient.

"Oh, mummy!" cried Peggy, "don't! You touch daddy's things as if you
didn't like them."

"Peggy, darling, what do you mean?"

"You're so quick." She laid her face against one of Majendie's coats and
stroked it. "Must daddy's things go away?"

"Yes, darling. Why don't you want them to go?"

"Because I love them. I love all his little coats and hats and shoes and
things."

"Oh, Peggy, Peggy, you're a little sentimentalist. Go and see what
Nanna's got there."

Nanna had given a cry of joyous discovery. "Look, ma'am," said she, "what
I've found in master's portmanteau."

Nanna came forward, shaking out a child's frock. A frock of pure white
silk, embroidered round the neck and wrists with a deep border of
daisies, pink and white and gold.

"Nanna!"

"Oh, mummy, what is it?"

Peggy