s one of the reasons why
she was such a favorite and led her girls with such gentle, silken
cords, was her power of entering into their pleasures. She used to
confess with a smile that she was like a child herself over an
unopened parcel; and when Miss Johnson appeared with the information
that the box was large and cumbersome, Mrs. Ward still gave directions
that it was to be brought into the drawing-room.

"You can put some of the brown paper on the floor, if you like, Lucy,"
she said, "and Maggie can show us its contents."

Now, one glance at the parcel told Maggie Howland who had sent it. She
recognized her stepfather's writing. That bold commercial hand was
painfully visible on the label. She would have given worlds not to
have anything selected for her by Martin exhibited in the drawing-room
at Aylmer House. But to refuse to show the contents of the box would
but raise strong suspicion against her. She therefore, although very
unwillingly, followed Miss Johnson into the drawing-room. The box was
laid on the floor. The lid was removed, some tissue-paper was next
extricated, and beneath lay a wardrobe such as poor Maggie even in her
wildest dreams had never imagined. There was a letter lying on the top
which she clutched and put into her pocket. This letter was in her
stepfather's writing. She could not read it before the others. Aneta
and all the girls of her set, also Kathleen O'Donnell, Rosamond Dacre,
Matty and Clara Roache, Janet Barns, the Tristrams, the Cardews, all
clustered round the box.

"Oh, what fun!" said Kathleen. "A box of dresses for you! You lucky
Queen Maggie! How I wish some one would send me some clothes!"

"Take them out, dear, and let us look at them," said Mrs. Ward.

The first dress to be removed was a magenta cachemire. It was made
with a short skirt trimmed with little frills of the same. The bodice
had sleeves to the elbows, and long, coarse cream-colored lace sleeves
below. The front of the dress was also much bedizened by the same
coarse cream lace.

Maggie felt her face nearly purple with rage. "Oh, why must all these
things be looked at here?" she said; and there was a piteous note in
her voice.

"I don't see the necessity, dear," said Mrs. Ward kindly.

"But, oh! please, please," said Kathleen, "we _must_ see the others.
Here's a sage-green dress trimmed with bands of black silk: that will
be quite useful in the winter, won't it, Mags?"

She tried to speak kindly, for the