ercifully, only three of us, my two
brothers and me. If there had been any more I don't know what my poor
little Papa would have done."

"Why do you call him your 'poor little papa'?" Fay asked curiously.

"Because he is poor--dreadfully--and little, and very melancholy. He
suffers so from depression."

"Why?" asked the downright Jan.

"Partly because he has indigestion, _constant_ indigestion, and then
there's us, and boys are so expensive, they will grow so. It upsets him
dreadfully."

"But they can't help growing," Fay objected.

"It wouldn't matter so much if they didn't both do it at once. But you
see, there's only a year between them, and they're just about the same
size. If only one had been smaller, he could have worn the outgrown
things. As it is, it's always new clothes for both of them. Papa's are
no sort of use, and even the cheapest suits cost a lot, and boots are
perfectly awful."

Meg looked so serious that Fay and Jan, who were like the lilies of the
field, and expected new and pretty frocks at reasonable intervals as a
matter of course, looked serious too; for the first time confronted by a
problem whose possibility they had never even considered before.

"He must be pleased with you," Jan said, encouragingly. "_You're_ not
too big."

"Yes, but then I'm not a boy. Papa's clothes would have made down for me
beautifully if I'd been a boy; as it is, they're no use." Meg sighed,
then added more cheerfully. "But I cost less in other ways, and several
relations send old clothes to me. They are never too small."

"Do you like the relations' clothes?" Fay asked.

"Of course not," said Meg, simply. "They are generally hideous; but,
after all, they cover me and save expense."

The spoiled daughters of Anthony Ross gazed at Meg with horror-stricken
eyes. To them this seemed a most tragic state of things.

"Do they all," Fay asked timidly, "wear such ... rich materials--like
Cousin Amelia?"

"They're fond of plush, as a rule, but there's velveteen as well, and
sometimes a cloth dress. One was mustard-coloured, and embittered my
life for a whole year."

Jan suddenly ceased to brush Fay's hair and went and sat on the bed
beside Meg and put her arm round her. Fay's pretty face, framed in
fluffy masses of fair hair, was solemn in excess of sympathy.

"I shouldn't care a bit if only the boys were through Sandhurst and
safely into the Indian Army--but I do hate them having to go without
nearly everyt