For little Kitty, so she kin have somethin' purty to remember her mama by. Kate had put the poor little gift away sadly, dreading to think how the girl must have earned even the trifling outlay it had cost. It seemed a pitifully suitable memento of that mother--a string of cheap gilt beads, already tarnished.... Jacqueline's handiwork on these occasions was a rather ambitious venture, a peppermint-striped silk shirt, reminiscent of Professor Thorpe's courting finery, which she was making as a surprise for Philip's birthday. Kate eyed this surprise with some misgivings, and hoped that she would not be asked for an opinion upon it. The sleeves of the thing looked rather odd, as if they were facing the wrong direction; also, the buttonholes might have been spaced more evenly. In its beginning she ventured one remonstrance. "Isn't striped silk just a little giddy for the Cloth, dear?" "Phil needs to be giddy, Mother. I mean that my husband shall be just as stylish as Jemmy's. Besides, it won't show under his clerical vest." "But if it won't show, what's the use of all this grandeur?" "Why, Mummy, what a vulgar thought! It will feel, of course!--You know how it is when there are ribbons and lace on our underthings--we feel sort of superior and extra lady-like." "Do we?" laughed Kate. "I must try it and see." "And then men admire silk tremendously," Jacqueline informed her, seriously. "Whenever I ask Phil what to put on, he chooses something silk, and I don't believe he's ever owned anything silk in all his life; unless perhaps a handkerchief. Oh, he's going to love this shirt, you'll see!" "I am sure he is," said Kate tenderly, and thereafter held her peace. Jacqueline was right, Philip's delight in his "surprise" was almost touching. It was perhaps the first thing that any woman had made for him with her own hands since the days when his mother prepared for his arrival in the world. He bragged about his shirt to all of his acquaintance, loyally concealing its weaknesses; and would have worn it with equal pride had it been as uncomfortable as the shirt of Nessus. Jacqueline, highly elated, embarked upon a series of silken adventures. If firm intention could have done it, she would have become in those days as accomplished a needlewoman as her mother and sister. CHAPTER XLIV Jacqueline had never quite thought out to herself the reason for Channing's unexplained disappearance. It was a subject upon which her mind dwelt constantly whenever she was alone; hence she managed to be alone as little as possible. The realization that he was a coward, as she had more than once suspected--afraid to face the consequences of his own act; afraid (the weakest cowardice of all!) of what people might say--had done much to help her pride through the humiliation of desertion, had done much, indeed, to banish him from her heart.