"`Yes, dear,' she said meekly, `of--of course. I'm sure you are quite
right,' and will you believe it, Una, she went straight into her own
room, and cried! I know she did, for I saw the marks on her face later
on, and taxed her with it. She was very apologetic, but she said the
little table with the gold legs had been father's first gift to her
after they were married, and she couldn't bear to have it put aside; and
the ivory basket under the glass shade had come from the first French
Exhibition, and she had worked those bead bannerettes herself when I was
teething, and threatened with convulsions, and she did not dare to leave
the house. Of course, I felt a wretch, and hugged her, and said--

"`Why didn't you say so before? We will bring them back at once, and
put them where they were; but you have not tender associations with all
the things. You did not work that hideous patchwork cushion, for
instance, and--'

"`No, but Aunt Mary Ryley did,' she cried eagerly, `and it is made out
of pieces of all the dresses we wore when we were girls together. I
often look at it and remember the happy times I had in the grey poplin
and the puce silk.'

"So, of course, the cushion had to come back too, and by the end of a
week every single thing was taken out of the cupboard, and put in its
former place! They _all_ had memories, and mother loved the memories,
and cared nothing for the appearance. I was sweet about it. I wouldn't
say so to anyone but you, Una, but I really was quite angelic, until one
day when Amy Reeve came to call. She was staying with some friends a
few miles off, and drove in to see me. You know how inquisitive Amy is,
and how she stares, and takes in everything, and quizzes it afterwards?
Well, my dear, she sat there, and her eyes simply roved round and round
the whole time, until she must have known the furniture by heart. I
suffered," sighed Lorna plaintively, "I suffered _anguish_! I wouldn't
have minded anyone else so much--but Amy!"

I said, (properly), that Amy was a snob and an idiot, and that it
mattered less than nothing what she thought, but all the time I knew
that I should have felt humiliated myself, and Lorna knew it, too, but
was not vexed with me for pretending the contrary, for it is only right
to set a good example.

"Of course," she said, "one ought to be above such petty trials. If a
friendship hangs upon chiffoniers and bead mats, it can't be worth
keeping. I have told my