m! Oh, mother, are they really both for me! And what pretty
buttons! Are those for me, too?"

"Yes, it's all for you, dear." Lucy's voice had begun to sound tired and
faint. She had had a long, wearying day, and the parcels had been heavy.
Mona, though, did not notice anything. She was busy arranging the wreath
round the crown of her hat. "If I only had a white dress, wouldn't it
look nice with this! Oh, I'd love to have a white dress. If I'd stayed
with granny, she was going to get me one this summer."

Her father turned and looked across at them. "What've you bought for
yourself, Lucy, my girl?" he asked suddenly. Lucy looked up in surprise.
"I--oh, I didn't want anything, father," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
"I don't need anything new this summer. My dove-colour merino is as good
as it was the day I bought it. It seems foolish to--to buy new when one
doesn't need it," she added hastily. "It is only a trouble to keep."

"Do you mean the one you were married in?" asked Peter shrewdly.

Lucy nodded. "Yes--the one you liked. I'll get myself a new pair of
gloves. I can get those at Tamlin's."

"Um!" There was a deal of meaning in Peter Carne's 'Um.' "Well, you'll
never get one that's prettier, but you ought to have something new and
nice, too. And what about your medicine?"

"Oh!" Lucy coloured. "Oh, I--I'm trying to do without it. It isn't good
for anyone to be taking it too often."

"That's what granny always says," chimed in Mona. "She says if people get
into the way of taking medicine they get to think they can't do without
it."

Lucy's pale cheeks flushed pink, and a hurt look crept into her eyes.
Her husband was deeply annoyed, and showed it. "I think, my girl,"
he said, in a sterner voice than Mona had ever heard before, "you'd better
wait to offer your opinion until you are old enough to know what you are
talking about. You are more than old enough, though, to know that it's
wrong to repeat what's said before you. After all your mother's bought
for you, too, I'd have thought," he broke off, for Mona's eyes were once
more full of tears. Never in her life before had her father spoken to her
so severely.

"I--I didn't mean any harm," she stammered, apologetically.

"Then you should learn to think, and not say things that may do harm.
If what's on your tongue to say is likely to hurt anybody's feelings, or
to make mischief, then don't let it slip past your tongue. You'll get o