omes something that we must both do; that is, go and see
Mrs. Cheriton; and if you will let me, dear, I am going to tie your
necktie for you."

Peggy submitted meekly, while Margaret pulled the crumpled white tie
round to the front, re-tied, patted, and poked it. Then her hair must be
coaxed a little--or not so very little!--and then--

"What have you done to your frock, child? it is buttoned all crooked!
Why, isn't there a looking-glass in your room?"

"Oh, yes!" said Peggy. "But I hate to look in the glass! There's sure to
be something the matter, and I do despise fussing over clothes."

By this time Margaret had rebuttoned the dress, with a sigh over the
fact that the buttons did not match it, and that one sleeve was put in
wrong. Now she declared that they must go without more delay, and
Elizabeth came to show them the way.

Peggy hung back, muttering that she never knew what to say to strangers;
but Margaret took her hand firmly, and drew her along.

Perhaps Margaret may have felt a little nervous herself about this
strange lady, who never left her rooms, and yet was to entertain and
care for them, as her uncle's note had said. Both girls followed in
silence, as Elizabeth led them through the hall, past a door, then down
three steps and along a little passage to another door, at which she
knocked.

"Come in!" said a pleasant voice. Elizabeth opened the door and motioned
the girls to enter.

"The young ladies, ma'am!" she said; and then shut the door and went
away.

The sudden change from the dark passage to the white room was dazzling.
It was a small room, and it seemed to be all white: walls, floor
(covered with a white India matting), furniture, and all. The strange
lady sat in a great white armchair. She wore a gown of soft white
cashmere, and her hair, and her cap, her hands, and her face, were all
different shades of white, each softer than the other. Only her eyes
were brown; and as she looked kindly at the girls and smiled, they
thought they had never seen anything so beautiful in their lives.

"Why, children," she said; "do you think I am a ghost? Come here, dears,
and let me look at you! I am real, I assure you." She laughed, the
softest little laugh, hardly more than a rustle, and held out her hand.
Margaret came forward at once, still dragging Peggy after her,--Peggy,
whose eyes were so wide open, it looked as if she might never be able to
shut them again.

Mrs. Cheriton took a hand of each