what to do with your old things."

"I'm not _always_ saying it. I may have mentioned it once or twice when
the conversation was flagging."

"Well, mention it now, and then I'll mention my jumble sale."

I thought it over for a moment.

"It will mean brown paper and string," I said hopelessly, "and I don't
know where to get them."

"I'll buy some after lunch for you. You shall hold my hand while I buy
it."

"And then I should have to post it, and I'm _rotten_ at posting things."

"But you needn't post it, because you can meet me at the station with
it, and I'll take it home."

"I don't think it's quite etiquette for a young girl to travel alone
with a big brown-paper parcel. What would Mrs. Middleton say if she
knew?"

"Mother?" cried Miss Middleton. "But, of course, it's her idea. You
_didn't_ think it was mine?" she said reproachfully.

"The shock of it unnerved me for a moment. Of course, I see now that it
is Mrs. Middleton's jumble sale entirely." I sighed and helped myself to
salt. "How do I begin?"

"You drive me to my dressmaker and leave me there and go on to your
rooms. And then you collect a few really old things that you don't want
and tie them up and meet me at the 4.40. I'm afraid," she said frankly,
"it _is_ a rotten way of spending an afternoon; but I promised mother."

"I'll do it," I said.

My parcel and I arrived promptly to time. Miss Middleton didn't.

"Don't say I've caught the wrong train," she said breathlessly, when at
last she appeared. "It does go at 4.40, doesn't it?"

"It does," I said, "and it did."

"Then my watch must be slow."

"Send it to the jumble sale," I advised. "Look here--we've a long time
to wait for the next train; let's undress my parcel in the waiting-room,
and I'll point out the things that really want watching. Some are
absolutely unique."

It was an odd collection of very dear friends, Miss Middleton's final
reminder having been that _nothing_ was too old for a jumble sale.

"_Lot One_," I said. "A photograph of my house cricket eleven, framed in
oak. Very interesting. The lad on the extreme right is now a clergyman."

"Oh, which is you?" said Miss Middleton eagerly.

I was too much wrapped up in my parcel to answer. "_Lot Two_," I went
on. "A pink-and-white football shirt; would work up into a dressy blouse
for adult, or a smart overcoat for child. _Lot Three._ A knitted
waistcoat; could be used as bath-mat. _Lot Four._ Pair of bedroom
slippers in