"How pretty
Peggy Smith looks!" and "What a lovely gown she has on!" she said,
turning a brave and half-defiant glance upon Agnes.

"Yes, it is pretty. It's made of that South American embroidered
muslin,--convent work, you know," answered Agnes, casting a fleeting
look at Tilly.

"No, I didn't know," answered Tilly, trying to seem calm and
indifferent, but failing miserably.

"Yes," went on Agnes, "I know, because my cousins have had several of
those dresses, and I'm quite familiar with them."

Peggy, sitting there in her odd pretty dress, saw with pity the distress
in her friend Tilly's face.

"Those girls are worrying poor Tilly, auntie, see,--and I dare say it's
on my account, for I was sure when she came out that she was intending
to join us, and that they prevented her,--and, auntie, I'm going to
brave the lions in their dens, and going over to her."

"They are ill-bred girls, and they may do or say something rude,"
replied auntie, regarding Peggy with a slightly anxious expression.

"Oh, I don't care for that now. Tilly is such a darling in sticking to
me, in spite of their disapproval," laughing a little, "that I think I
ought to stick to her;" and, nodding to her auntie, Peggy started on her
friendly errand.

"What impudence! She's actually coming over to us uninvited. Well, I
must say she has nerve!" muttered Agnes, as she observed Peggy's
movements.

Coming forward, Peggy nodded to the whole group of girls; but it was to
Tilly she addressed herself, and by Tilly's side she seated herself. It
was in doing this that the delicate material of her dress caught in a
protruding nail in the splint piazza chair with an ominous sound.

"Oh, your pretty gown! it's torn!" cried Tilly.

The two sprang up to examine it, and found an ugly little rent that had
nearly pulled out one of the wrought rosebuds.

"It's too bad,--too bad!" sympathized Tilly.

"But it's easily mended, and it won't show," answered Peggy, cheerfully.

"It isn't easy to mend that South American stuff so that it won't show,"
remarked Agnes, coolly.

"I know it isn't usually," answered Peggy, as coolly; "but auntie can
mend almost anything."

"It is a perfectly beautiful dress. I wish I had one just like it,"
broke forth Tilly, hurriedly, hardly knowing what she was saying in the
desire to say something kind.

"You could easily send for one like it," spoke up Agnes, "if you knew
anybody out there, or what shop or convent address to