d a kiss upon her cheek, and walked away
to answer the invitation forthwith.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

AT THE LARCHES.

The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Peggy went up to her own
room to pack for her visit to the Larches. The long dress-box, which
had been stored away ever since its arrival, was brought out, and its
contents displayed to an admiring audience, consisting of Mrs Asplin,
Esther, Mellicent, and Mary the housemaid.

Everything was there that the heart of girl could desire, and a mother's
forethought provide for her darling's use when she was far-away. A
dress of cobweb Indian muslin embroidered in silk, a fan of curling
feathers, a dear little satin pocket in which to keep the lace
handkerchief, rolls of ribbons, dainty white shoes, with straggly silk
stockings rolled into the toes.

Peggy displayed one article after another, while Mellicent groaned and
gurgled with delight; Mary exclaimed, "My, Miss Peggy, but you will be
smart!" and Mrs Asplin stifled a sigh at the thought of her own
inferior preparations.

Punctually at ten o'clock the carriage drove up to the door, and off
Peggy drove, not altogether unwillingly, now that it had come to the
pinch, for after all it _is_ pleasant to be appreciated, and, when a
great excitement is taking place in the neighbourhood, it is only human
to wish to be in the thick of the fray.

Lady Darcy welcomed her guest with gracious kindness, and, as soon as
she had taken off her hat and jacket in the dressing-room which was
allotted to her use, she was taken straight away to the chief room,
where the work of decoration was being carried briskly forward. The
village joiner was fitting mirrors into the corners and hammering with
deafening persistence, a couple of gardeners were arranging banks of
flowers and palms, and Rosalind stood in the midst of a bower of
greenery, covered from head to foot in a smock of blue linen, and with a
pair of gardening gloves drawn over her hands.

She gave a little cry of relief and satisfaction as Peggy entered.

"Oh, Mawiquita, so glad you have come! Mother is so busy that she can't
be with me at all, and these wretched bwanches pwick my fingers! Do
look wound, and say how it looks! This is weally the servants' hall,
you know, as we have not a pwoper ballroom, and it is so square and high
that it is perfectly dweadful to decowate! A long, narrow woom is so
much better!"

Peggy thought the arrangements tasteful and