The punt is a good idea," admitted Nan, "for people are always pleased
to go on the river, and we must turn our advantages to account. A
garden sale, that's what we must have! Little tables dotted about the
lawn beneath Japanese umbrellas; tea in a tent, and seats under the
trees. We can use all the properties that mother keeps for her garden
parties, and make it just as pretty and attractive as can be. I
shouldn't wonder if we made a lot of money, for we shall be so original
and ingenious. People are so stupid in this world. I always feel I
could do things so much better myself. Who wants to go to a stuffy old
bazaar in the Mission Room? No one does! They go from a sense of duty.
Mother groans and says, `Oh dear, if I could only give a subscription
and be done with it! More cosies and chairbacks! I've a drawerful
already!' And bazaar things are hideous! Father gave me ten shillings
to spend at the Christmas sale, and I wandered round and round like a
lost sheep, and couldn't see a single thing that I wanted. In the end I
bought a cover for _Bradshaw_. It wasn't a bit useful, for I never have
a _Bradshaw_; but it was the nicest thing I saw. Now, let us solemnly
resolve not to have anything on our stalls that will not reflect credit
on our judgment. Nothing ugly, nothing useless, nothing vulgar--"

"Impossible, my dear! Can't be managed. It's the law of Nature that
the kindest-hearted people have the least taste. I don't know why it
should be so, but it is, and I'll prove it to you. If we announced that
we were going to have a sale of work and asked for contributions, who
would be the first people to respond?" Christabel thrust out her left
hand and began checking off the fingers with dramatic emphasis. "Miss
Ross,--Mrs Hudson,--Mary Field,--old Jane Evans. `So pleased to hear
that the dear children are interesting themselves in the welfare of
their poor brothers and sisters, and I've brought round a few wool mats
as a little expression of sympathy!'--that's Mrs Ross! Then Mary Ann
would hobble up with a parcel wrapped up in a handkerchief, and kiss us
all twice over, and say, `I've brought round a piece of my own fancy
work, lovies, as a contribution for your sale. My sight is not what it
used to be, and it's difficult to get the material one would like in
this little place; but shaded silks always look well, and I made the
fringe myself out of odd pieces of wool.' And _that's_ not the worst!
M