adow
of respectability to her distant but august relative, the Lady Augusta
Decima Crewe Bilberry, wife of the Rev. Marmaduke Sholto Bilberry, and
mother of the plenteous crop of young Bilberrys, to whom little Miss
Crewe was music teacher and morning governess.

So it was that Mollie's joke about the tucks and white muslin gained
additional point from the family recollection of past experiences.

"But," said Dolly, when the laugh had subsided, "it won't do to
talk nonsense all day. Here 's where we stand, you know. Coffee and
conversation on Friday night on one side, and nothing but my draggled
old green tarlatan on the other, and it's Tuesday now."

"And the family impecuniosity being a fact well established in the
family mind," began Phil, with composure.

"But that 's nonsense," interrupted Aimee. "And, as Dolly says, nonsense
won't do now. But," with a quaint sigh, "we always _do_ talk nonsense."

But here a slight diversion was created. Mrs. Phil jumped up, with
an exclamation of delight, and, dropping Tod on to Mollie's lap,
disappeared through the open door.

"I will be back in a minute," she called back to them, as she ran
up-stairs. "I have just thought of something."

"Girls," said Mollie, "it's her white merino."

And so it was. In a few minutes she reappeared with it,--a heap of soft
white folds in her arms, and a yard or so of the train dragging after
her upon the carpet,--the one presentable relic of a once inconsistently
elaborate bridal trousseau, at present in a rather tumbled and rolled-up
condition, but still white and soft and thick, and open to unlimited
improvement.

"I had forgotten all about it," she said, triumphantly. "I have never
needed it at all, and I knew I never should when I bought it, but it
looked so nice when I saw it that I could n't help buying it. I once
thought of cutting it up into things for Tod; but it seems to me, Dolly,
it 's what you want exactly, and Tod can trust to Providence,--things
always come somehow."

It was quite characteristic of Vagabondia that there should be more
rejoicing over this one stray sheep of good luck than there would have
been over any ninety and nine in the ordinary folds of more prosperous
people. And Mrs. Phil rejoiced as heartily as the rest. It was her turn
now, and she was as ready to sacrifice her white merino on the shrine
of the household impecuniosity as she would be to borrow Dolly's best
bonnet, or Mollie's shoes, or Aimee's