to get into her shop.

When they got home Peter had grown confidential over helping Mother to
get the breakfast and had told her their plans.

"There's no harm in it," said Mother, "but it depends HOW you do it. I
only hope he won't be offended and think it's CHARITY. Poor people are
very proud, you know."

"It isn't because he's poor," said Phyllis; "it's because we're fond of
him."

"I'll find some things that Phyllis has outgrown," said Mother, "if
you're quite sure you can give them to him without his being offended. I
should like to do some little thing for him because he's been so kind to
you. I can't do much because we're poor ourselves. What are you writing,
Bobbie?"

"Nothing particular," said Bobbie, who had suddenly begun to scribble.
"I'm sure he'd like the things, Mother."

The morning of the fifteenth was spent very happily in getting the buns
and watching Mother make A. P. on them with pink sugar. You know how
it's done, of course? You beat up whites of eggs and mix powdered sugar
with them, and put in a few drops of cochineal. And then you make a cone
of clean, white paper with a little hole at the pointed end, and put the
pink egg-sugar in at the big end. It runs slowly out at the pointed end,
and you write the letters with it just as though it were a great fat pen
full of pink sugar-ink.

The buns looked beautiful with A. P. on every one, and, when they were
put in a cool oven to set the sugar, the children went up to the village
to collect the honey and the shovel and the other promised things.

The old lady at the Post-office was standing on her doorstep. The
children said "Good morning," politely, as they passed.

"Here, stop a bit," she said.

So they stopped.

"Those roses," said she.

"Did you like them?" said Phyllis; "they were as fresh as fresh. _I_
made the needle-book, but it was Bobbie's present." She skipped joyously
as she spoke.

"Here's your basket," said the Post-office woman. She went in and
brought out the basket. It was full of fat, red gooseberries.

"I dare say Perks's children would like them," said she.

"You ARE an old dear," said Phyllis, throwing her arms around the old
lady's fat waist. "Perks WILL be pleased."

"He won't be half so pleased as I was with your needle-book and the tie
and the pretty flowers and all," said the old lady, patting Phyllis's
shoulder. "You're good little souls, that you are. Look here. I've got a
pram round the back in the wood