she would be sure to
spend her money freely, and Joan was greatly interested in the success
of the sale. And, alas! she forgot all about the worsted slippers!

They presented their tickets, and entered the room just as Millicent had
buried her face in her handkerchief upon hearing the remarks of Elsie
Pearson. When she emerged therefrom the first thing that met her
astonished gaze was the tall and never-to-be-forgotten form of Cousin
Appolina Briggs, and her heart sank with apprehension. For a moment the
works of her unappreciated genius were forgotten. Her one thought was
"slippers!"

"Oh, that I had never sent those horrible slippers!" she said to herself
despairingly. "It will be just my luck to have her see them, and would
serve me right, too, for having given away a present. Yes, she is going
that way! Oh, if I could only make Peggy or Joan come here! They could
go and buy the slippers before she gets there."

But Peggy and Joan were not forth-coming. The latter, full of business,
had lost no time in retiring behind the screen which formed the
"fish-pond," and was already baiting the hook with ardor, and queerly
shaped packages, and Peggy had not yet seen her cousin, and supposed her
to be safe at Washington.

But Miss Briggs was not one to remain long unnoticed. She was of
commanding height and noble breadth. When she entered a room the rest of
humanity seemed to grow smaller by comparison. Her voice was deep and
had a penetrating quality which caused it to be heard at the unusual
distance, and the gold lorgnette, without which she was never seen, and
which she was in the habit of raising constantly to her short-sighted
and somewhat prominent eyes, flashed and glittered in the light.

Truly Miss Appolina's was a presence calculated to make itself felt. And
Peggy felt it, and she heard the voice, and a tremor that seemed like
fear filled her naturally courageous heart. She looked at Cousin
Appolina, and she looked at the poetry table. There was yet time.
Leaving abruptly a customer who was on the verge of making an important
purchase, who only needed a word of advice from Miss Peggy Reid as to
which was the prettier, a centre-piece embroidered in yellow, or a
table-cloth done in greens, she flew to the side of Millicent.

"The poems!" she gasped. "Have any of them sold?"

"Not one," said Millicent, "but oh, Peggy; there is Cousin Appolina!"

"I know," returned Peggy, breathlessly, as she turned over the
bo