for the
chiffon is so full and loose. I--I think I could do it, if you would
let me try!"

Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual glance, and the Frenchwoman
nodded slowly.

"Yes, it is true; I could rearrange the folds. It will take some time,
but still it can be done. It is the best plan."

"Go then, Rosalind, go with Marie; there is not a moment to spare, and
for pity's sake don't cry! Your eyes will be red, and at any moment now
the people may begin to arrive. I wanted you to be with me to receive
your guests. It will be most awkward being without you, but there is no
help for it, I suppose. The whole thing is too annoying for words!"

Lady Darcy swept out of the room, and the three girls were once more
left alone; but how changed were their feelings in those few short
moments! There was not the shadow of a smile between them; they looked
more as if they were about to attend a funeral than a scene of
festivity, and for several moments no one had the heart to speak. Peggy
still held the fatal cork in her hand, and went through the work of
polishing Mellicent's slippers with an air of the profoundest dejection.
When they were finished she handed them over in dreary silence, and was
recommencing the brushing of her hair, when something in the expression
of the chubby face arrested her attention. Her eyes flashed; she faced
round with a frown and a quick, "Well, what is it? What are you
thinking now?"

"I--I wondered," whispered Mellicent breathlessly, "if you did do it on
purpose! Did you _mean_ to spoil her dress, and make her change it?"

Peggy's hands dropped to her side, her back straightened until she stood
stiff and straight as a poker. Every atom of expression seemed to die
out of her face. Her voice had a deadly quiet in its intonation.

"What do you think about it yourself?"

"I--I thought perhaps you did! She teased you, and you were so cross.
You seemed to be standing so very near her, and you are jealous of her--
and she looked so lovely! I thought perhaps you did..."

"Mellicent Asplin," said Peggy quietly, and her voice was like the east
wind that blows from an icy-covered mountain,--"Mellicent Asplin, my
name is Saville, and in my family we don't condescend to mean and
dishonourable tricks. I may not like Rosalind, but I would have given
all I have in the world sooner than this should have happened. I was
trying to do you a service, but you forget that. You forget many