"You see it is such a poor parish," continued Annabel "that we ought to send them a good large grant and I don't think the garments which we have already allotted to St. Etheldreda's are sufficient, in spite of the extra petticoats. I must add some more to them. Lady Westerham has sent me a lot of such beautiful scarlet flannel petticoats, Reggie, and I want to divide them equally amongst the poorest parishes. I shouldn't send any of those to St. James's, I think." "Certainly not," I interrupted; "they wouldn't be at all appropriate." Fay began to laugh. "I really don't see anything to laugh at," said Annabel good-humouredly; "Reggie is quite right in agreeing with me that it is not appropriate to send our best garments to a comparatively wealthy parish like St. James's. Those calico shirts that Mrs. Jones sent can go to St. James's; they're quite good enough for that. I always think that the Vicar of St. James's is a most grasping person, considering how many well-to-do people he has in his parish. I am not going to send him any of my warmest garments; I shall only send him my shirts and socks and things like that. If he wants expensive flannel petticoats he must buy them for himself, for he certainly shan't have them from the Guild." "What's this?" I asked, picking up a grey knitted habiliment. "Oh, that's one of St. Stephen's sweaters, Ponty knitted them," replied Annabel. "The Vicar of St. Stephen's is a very worthy young man, who has organized a cricket team or a football eleven or something of that sort among the poorest boys of his parish, and he asked me if the Guild could send sweaters for them to play in as they have nothing themselves but rags. Where are the rest of them, Fay?" Fay indicated a shapeless mass of grey matter underneath the gate-legged table. Annabel continued to flit like a bird from one heap of clothes to another, talking meanwhile in her usual irrelevant fashion. "I am very much disappointed in Summerglade's contribution--very much disappointed indeed. I consider it most shabby. As a matter of fact I don't think it is large enough to entitle them to a grant from the Guild at all. The Summerglade people will have to do without any garments at all this winter." "Oh, that would hardly do," I meekly suggested, balancing myself on the arm of a nightgown-covered chair, like Noah's Ark on the top of Ararat. "Well, they don't deserve any," replied Annabel sternly. "But that has nothing to do with it," I argued, "in fact quite the reverse. As far as I can judge, the only reason for being given garments at all is the fact that one doesn't deserve them. If you don't believe me, let me refer you to the precedent of Adam and Eve."