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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
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