y friend I have here
in this lonesome place."

"If I am going to be your friend, I am not going to be Miss Haughton
another minute. Do you really want me to stay, Peggy?"

"I do, Bertha, indeed I do."

"Honour bright?"

"Honour brightest!"

"Hurrah, then! And now for the box!"

CHAPTER II.

THE BOX FROM FERNLEY.

The box was no ordinary rough affair, knocked together for simple
purposes of transportation. It was neatly and carefully made, the edges
fitting closely together, the lid furnished with hinges.

"We must take care how we open this!" said Bertha. "It would be a shame
to spoil such a fine box."

Peggy was used to tools of every description, and she drew out the
screws deftly, then lifted the lid. Both girls bent eagerly forward.
Nothing was visible but white paper, neatly fitted to the top of the
box. Yes! on the paper lay a card, on which was written, "For Peggy's
housekeeping. From Uncle John and Margaret, with best love."

The handwriting was Margaret's, and Peggy seized and kissed it before
going further. "It is Margaret!" she said. "Dear, darling Margaret, the
best friend I have in the world. Oh, how dear and kind and lovely of
them both! What _do_ you suppose they have sent me?"

"Suppose we see!" said Bertha Haughton. Yet both girls lingered a
moment, tasting the joy of suspense.

It was not a joy to be long indulged, however. Together they lifted the
paper, and lo! more paper, but this time enveloping various mysterious
packages neatly tied with pink tape.

"Margaret's tape!" cried Peggy. "Uncle John gave her a great big spool
of it, because she said she had never seen enough in her life. Oh, what
a fat bundle! You shall open it, Bertha, because you have been so good
to me."

"Open your bundle!" cried Bertha. "Indeed I will not! I never heard of
such a thing. Be quick, though, for I do want to see."

The big square parcel revealed an afghan, knitted in long stripes of
red and blue, the colours rich and warm, and harmonising pleasantly.

"Oh, what a beauty!" cried Bertha, while Peggy gazed in silent delight.
"My dear, it warms the whole room! and the length of it, and the
breadth! why, it will go on double. I never saw such a splendid one."

Indeed, the great afghan had been Margaret's "pick-up work" ever since
she first heard that Peggy was going to school, and loving thoughts were
knitted into every stripe.

"What next?" said Bertha. "My dear, sofa-pillows!"

So they w