up your gown, though
you did give Mother the money."
A robe, in the Middle Ages, meant more than a single gown, and the
crimson woollen was a robe. Under and upper tunics, a mantle, and a
corset or warm under-bodice, lay before the eyes of the amazed Agnes.
"Derette, you awful child!" exclaimed her mother almost in terror, "what
have you been after, and where did you get all that? Why, it's a new
robe, and fit for a queen!"
"Don't scold the child," said Stephen. "She meant well, and I believe
she behaved well; she got more than she asked for, that's all."
"Please, it isn't quite new, Mother, because the Lady wore it yesterday;
but she said she hadn't one done with, so she gave me one she was
wearing."
Bit by bit the story was told, while Isel held up her hands in horrified
astonishment, which she allowed to appear largely, and in inward
admiration of Derette's spirit, of which she tried to prevent the
appearance. She was not, however, quite able to effect her purpose.
"_Meine Kind_!" cried Agnes, even more amazed and horrified than Isel.
"Dat is not for me. It is too good. I am only poor woman. How shall I
such beautiful thing wear?"
"But it is for you," pleaded Derette earnestly, "and you must wear it;
because, you see, if you did not, it would seem as if I had spoken
falsely to the Lady."
"Ay, I don't see that you can do aught but take it and wear it," said
Stephen. "Great ladies like ours don't take their gifts back."
Gerhardt had come in during the discussion.
"Nor does the Lord," he said, "at least not from those who receive them
worthily. Take it from Him, dear, with thankfulness to the human
instruments whom He has used. He saw thy need, and would not suffer
thee to want for obeying His command."
"But is it not too fine, Gerhardt?"
"It might be if we had chosen it," answered Gerhardt with a smile; "but
it seems as if the Lord had chosen it for thee, and that settles the
matter. It is only the colour, after all."
There was no trimming on the robe, save an edging of grey fur,--not even
embroidery: and no other kind of trimming was known at that time. Agnes
timidly felt the soft, fine texture.
"It is beautiful!" she said.
"Oh, it is beautiful enough, in all conscience," said Isel, "and will
last you a life-time, pretty nigh. But as to that dreadful child--"
"Now, Mother, you won't scold me, will you?" said Derette coaxingly,
putting her arms round Isel's neck. "I hav
|