ned aside into the study.

"Muvver," said Peggy, as they went hand in hand upstairs again; "do you
think daddy _really meant_ it as a surprise for _me_?"

"I think he must have done, darling."

"Aren't you sorry we spoiled his surprise, mummy?"

"I don't think he minds, Peggy."

"_I_ think he does. Why did he look angry, and say I was to take it off?"

"Perhaps, because it's rather too nice a frock for every day."

"My birthday isn't every day," said Peggy.

So Peggy wore the frock that Maggie had made for her and given to
Majendie last year. He had hidden it in his portmanteau, meaning to give
it to Mrs. Ransome at Christmas. And he had thrown the portmanteau into
the darkest corner of the cupboard, and gone away and forgotten all about
it.

And now the sight of Maggie's handiwork had given him a shock. For his
sin was heavy upon him. Every day he went in fear of discovery. Anne
would ask him where he had got that frock, and he would have to lie to
her. And it would be no use; for, sooner or later, she would know that he
had lied; and she would track Maggie down by the frock.

He hated to see his innocent child dressed in the garment which was a
token and memorial of his sin. He wished he had thrown the damned thing
into the Humber.

But Anne had no suspicion. Her face was smooth and tranquil as she came
downstairs. She was calling Peggy her "little treasure," and her eyes
were smiling as she looked at the frail, small, white and gold creature,
stepping daintily and shyly in her delicate dress.

Peggy was buttoned into a little white coat to keep her warm; and they
set out, Majendie carrying the luncheon basket, and Peggy an enormous
doll.

Peggy enjoyed the journey. When she was not talking to Majendie she was
singing a little song to keep the doll quiet, so that the time passed
very quickly both for her and him. There were other people in the
carriage, and Anne was afraid they would be annoyed at Peggy's singing.
But they seemed to like it as much as she and Majendie. Nobody was ever
annoyed with Peggy.

In Westleydale the beech trees were in golden leaf. It was green
underfoot and on the folding hills. Overhead it was limitless blue above
the uplands; and above the woods, among the golden tree-tops, clear films
and lacing veins and brilliant spots of blue.

Majendie felt Peggy's hand tighten on his hand. Her little body was
trembling with delight.

They found the beech tree under which he and Ann