She was not much longer, and then, a few minutes later, sallied out to take her aunt's knitting to one of the City shops. Mrs. Perkins warned her not to be out long, and Peggy sped along the busy streets, racking her brains as to how and where she could try on her untidy little head the stiff snow-white cap that she had bought. The parcel was delivered, and she received two shillings in payment, which she carefully tied in a corner of a red handkerchief round her throat. Then she retraced her steps homewards. On the way her eyes lighted on a heavily laden dust-cart in front of her. Something glittered among some rotten cabbages. Peggy's eyes were sharp. She saw that it was a piece of broken looking-glass. "The very thing for you, Peggy," said she. "Now if you gets that, you'll be in luck indeed!" She approached the dustman with all the assurance of a London child. "Hi, mister, jest shy me that piece of glass! I wants it badly." The man looked at her and it. Then he laughed. "It'll show you no beauty," he said, with a chuckle. "No," said Peggy seriously, "but it'll keep my hats and bonnets straight on my 'ead." He came to a standstill. Then with his shovel, he drew out the piece of glass and presented it to her. Peggy was profuse in her thanks. She hid it under her jacket, and got home in such haste that even her aunt had little fault to find with her. It was Sunday. She was up early, for she had a lot to do before she was at liberty to go out, and Peggy attended a Sunday School close by, and always went to church on Sunday morning. After that, she stayed in with her aunt for the rest of the day. Sunday afternoon was the time for Mrs. Perkins' visitors to come and see her. Sometimes it was a neighbour who dropped in for a chat; sometimes a married niece; but there was always a cup of tea going if nothing more, and Peggy waited on everybody and listened to the talk with interest, though she was never supposed to speak. She went off to Sunday School this morning in a happy frame of mind. Possibilities of a good place always seemed to centre in Miss Gregory, her teacher; and Peggy had made up many wonderful stories about this young lady. How one Sunday morning she would come to school and say,— "Peggy, I have for a long time thought you would make me a good little servant. Now I am sure of it. I will come round and talk to your aunt, and I will buy you some clothes and next week you shall come to me." Sometimes Peggy's fancies took a still higher flight. Miss Gregory would say,— "Peggy, I am buying a house in the country. It is a Rectory, and I have bought the church with it. It has a beautiful garden, and flowers and fruit; you must come with me and be my servant."