"And I have bought the umbrella out of my own earnings. You cannot think how proud I am of that! The poor old Gamp you were using would not keep a sparrow dry, it was so worn out, and I could not bear to think of you getting wet through. A happy Christmas to you, my darling! and no more at present from your loving Mollie." Noel's present was wrapped up with the gloves; it was only a small manuscript book, neatly bound with blue ribbon, and in Noel's flourishing school-boy hand was written,-- "The further adventures of Monsieur Blackie, by a Humourist, and dedicated with the author's compliments to old Storm-and-Stress." Ten minutes later, when Althea peeped through the curtain, she found Waveney still hugging her umbrella, while she looked over the pen-and-ink sketches with eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do you think it will fit?" she asked, softly. Then the girl started to her feet, her face crimson with emotion. "Oh, Miss Althea, how am I to thank you?" she exclaimed. "You are too kind, oh, far too kind to me." And then, almost tearfully, "I have nothing to give you in return." "Nothing! I thought I saw a pretty penwiper among my parcels, but I suppose I must have dreamt it; and I had an impression that Doreen showed me a needle-book." "Oh, but they were only trifles." "My dear, no gift, however small, from one who loves us, is a trifle, and I shall value your present. We have all we want, dear child, and the kindness of our friends almost embarrasses us. When you come back I must show you the beautiful things some of the girls have made for me, but there is no time to look at them now, for the church-bells are ringing." And then, as they went upstairs, Waveney laden with her treasures, the crowning touch was put to her day's pleasure. "I am so glad you like your frock, dear," remarked Althea; "it is certainly seasonable for winter evenings. You will find a parcel in your room directed to Mollie; it contains a similar dress for her." And the flash of joy in Waveney's eyes certainly repaid her. CHAPTER XXVI. A WHITE VELLUM POCKET-BOOK. "And there's pansies, that's for thoughts."--_Hamlet._ "There'll be a comforting fire; There'll be a welcome for somebody; One in her neatest attire, Will look to the table for somebody." SWAIN. It was in the gathering dusk of the afternoon when Waveney found herself in the neighbourhood of Cleveland Terrace. They had driven fast, and yet to the eager girl the way had seemed strangely long. As they approached the house, Althea shivered a little, as though her fur-lined cloak had suddenly lost its robin-like cosiness. The steely winter's sky, the raw dampness of the atmosphere, the gloom of the half light, which made all objects appear out of due proportion, and gave them a hazy indistinctness, made her feel depressed and uncomfortable.