“Now,” said the lady smiling at the eager little face, “what shall we choose for the subject of your tapestry, and what is to be its use? Will you have it for a cushion, or a panel of a screen, or something else?” “I think--a set of panels,” said Eleanor slowly. “It will take a long time, but I should like to do exactly like you.” Lady Philippa gave a little, amused, affectionate laugh that ended in a sigh. “But, my dear child, you don't think of copying these?” “N-o. But when I grow up I want my room to look like yours. I want the tapestry to have a story. Mother, do you think I could work the story of Saint George and the dragon? I like that best of all.” Eleanor drank in all the tales told her so delightedly that her mother had never known she liked one much more than another. “But,” she said smiling, “Saint George was an English saint. He was born in Coventry.” “That's why he is my favorite,” Eleanor explained. “You know father is English. And Saint George had so many adventures. I think he would be very interesting to do.” “It is your tapestry, dear child,” her mother said, laughing her sweet, joyous laugh. “I am sure I think Saint George and the dragon would make a very handsome set. And we need not draw all the designs now. Perhaps by-and-by we shall know some one who will draw a dragon for us. Meanwhile you may begin on the first panel.” Eleanor flung her arms around her mother. “Oh, mother dearest, it's so good of you. I'm so excited to begin. Please commence at the very first part of the story, for that will be easy.” “Not so easy as you think, perhaps, sweetheart. However, we can but try. You mean the setting forth of the knight?” “No, the time when he was a little boy, and the weird woman of the woods took him away and taught him everything. I like that part almost best of all.” “Very well. That will be a wise beginning, for in embroidering the trees and flowers of the forest you will learn all the different stitches. You will have to embroider quite well before beginning on the figures.” Eleanor leaned breathless over the table while her mother drew the outlines of the picture upon the linen--the witch-woman in her forest home, the straight, sturdy figure of small George standing before her. On two sides and the bottom of the panel were drawn gnarled and twisted tree-trunks and roots, ferns and flowers. Across the top a narrow conventional border was outlined, the cross of Saint George alternating with a five-petaled rose, the wild rose of England.