throw the diamonds into the
river."

"Oh!" said Peggy, meekly. She had tried to read the "Idyls of the King,"
but could not make out much except the fighting parts.

"Never understood why they had sleeves so often," said Bertha,
abstractedly bunching the green and white draperies. "Never could see
how they got the sleeve on the helmet in any kind of shape. What sort of
sleeves did they have then, anyhow? Why, they were those tight ones,
weren't they, with a slashed cap at the top? Well, now, Snowy, that
would look perfectly absurd on a helmet, you know it would."

The Snowy deigned no reply; or perhaps the tacks were in a perilous
position at that moment. Bertha went on, thoughtfully:

"A balloon sleeve, now, would be more sensible; you could slip it over
the helmet, and it would look like--like the shade of a piano lamp. But
somehow, whenever I read about it, I see a small, tight, red sleeve,
spread out like a red flannel bandage, as if the helmet had a sore
throat--"

"Fluffy, you are talking absolute nonsense!" said Gertrude, regaining
utterance. "And after all, they had gloves oftener than sleeves; not
that that makes it much better. For my part, I always think of a glove
with all the five fingers sticking up out of the middle of the crown, as
if they had tried to be feathers and been nipped in the bud."

"Feathers don't bud!" said Bertha, handing up more slack.

"But the real thing," Gertrude went on, "the beautiful, graceful thing
for the knight to wear, was the scarf. He could do anything he liked
with that; tie it around his helmet, or across his breast,--that was the
proper way of course,--or around his waist.

"A green scarf, that is what I would have! Very soft, so that it would
go through a finger-ring, and yet wide enough to shake out into
wonderful folds, you know, so that he could wrap himself up in it, and
think of me, and--what's the matter, Peggy, why do you sigh?"

"Did I sigh?" said Peggy, looking confused. "It was nothing, Snowy. I
was only thinking--thinking how stupid I was, and how Margaret would
like all the things you talk about."

"Meaning sleeves?"

"No, oh, no! but about knights, and chivalry, and all that kind of
thing. Margaret loves it so! She used to try to read Froissart to me,
but it always put me to sleep. I suppose you like Froissart, Gertrude?"

She spoke so wistfully that Gertrude took the tacks out of her mouth
(she should never have put them in; a junior should hav