“Thee deserves it, my daughter. I would far rather that thou shouldst have the good of it than it should lie here to rot. Let me see!” Diving down into the chest with a gaiety she did not often exhibit, she brought up some little shoes, silken to match the gown. “Ah! I thought these should be here. And here is a fan with sticks of sandal wood. And a piece of fine lawn that will make thee an apron. Come! we shall do nicely. ’Tis a veritable treasure chest we have come upon. We will not explore it further now. There may come another time of need. Take thou the shoon, Peggy, and the fan. I will carry the gown. We will begin work at once. I was slender when the frock was worn, but thou art a full inch smaller about the waist. ’Twill be easily fixed.” With reverent hands Peggy took the shoes and fan, and followed her mother down to the living-room. As Sally had said, Peggy was indeed thankful for the hours of training in fine sewing and embroidery. When finally the day came for the trying on, and the desired frock fulfilled her highest expectation, her ecstasy was unable to contain itself. “Thee is the best mother that ever lived,” she cried catching Mrs. Owen about the waist and giving her a girlish hug. “What would I do without thee? Oh, mother! what if thee had had no wedding gown? What would we have done?” Mrs. Owen laughed, well pleased at her enthusiasm. “We will not consider that part of it, Peggy,” she said. “We have it in truth, and it does indeed look well. A new frock would have looked no better. Ah! here is Sally. Let her give her opinion.” “Thee comes just in time, Sally,” cried Peggy as Sally Evans was shown into the room. “How does thee like my new frock?” “’Tis much prettier than mine,” declared Sally eying the gown critically. “And vastly distinctive. Where did thee get the material, Peggy? I never saw quite the shade.” “Then thee thinks it citified and à la mode?” queried Peggy, ignoring the question. “’Tis as sweet and modish as can be,” cried Sally generously. “Thee will outshine all us females, Peggy.” “Thee can’t mean that, Sally,” reproved Peggy flushing at such praise. “I know that thee is partial to thy friend, but that is going too far.” “But ’tis the truth,” answered Sally. “Would that I had seen that fabric, and I would have chosen it for my new frock. I did get a new one after all. I teased mother into getting it by telling her that thee was to have a new one.” “Oh! did thee?” cried Peggy. “Why, Sally, this was mother’s wedding gown. We went to get a frock, but found the prices beyond us. Mother was determined that I should have the gown though, so she gave me this.” “Mother was going to get it anyway, Peggy,” said Sally quickly, seeing her friend’s dismay. “It might not have been until later but I was to have a dress this winter. So thee must not think it thy fault that I got it. Would though that I had not. I wonder if my mother hath a wedding gown. This is vastly pretty.”