Esther had a silver watch of her very own, one she had earned for herself. She had won it as a prize in a competition offered by a magazine the children took in. Her success had come as a surprise to them all, but most of all to herself, and the proudest moment of her life had been that when a carefully sealed-up jeweller's box had come directed to 'Miss E. J. Carroll,' and she had lifted out her prize under the admiring eyes of Lydia and the children, and the astonished gaze of her mother. Mrs. Carroll was doubly astonished, firstly because she had not considered Esther capable, secondly because she had not grasped the fact that Esther was really seriously competing; but when she saw this proof of her labours, she made her a present of a pretty silver chain, with two little silver tassels at the end, and Esther's cup of joy overflowed. From that moment she would have bodices to her frocks that buttoned up in front, that she might pass the little silver bar through the buttonhole; and she set herself to make watch-pockets in all her skirts, which she managed by cutting slits in them just below the waistband, and sewing to the slits on the inside little pockets like small bag purses. Lydia showed her how to do it; and if the work was somewhat rough, and not quite finished, the pocket answered very well, and we cannot all reach perfection at once. But at this moment the precious watch stood on the mantelpiece in the blue bedroom, on the watch-stand which was another of Esther's treasures. Lydia had given it to her on one of her birthdays; it was made of white wood, and had a little view on it of Blackpool, where Lydia had been spending her holidays. In her shabby, ugly bedroom at home Esther had not used her precious stand, it was all too dusty and ill-cared for; but here, where everything was so nice, it was to be given a prominent position. When the children got home at last, tired and very hungry, they found four mugs of milk awaiting them, and a tin of biscuits; they found also that the postman had been with letters. There were none for them; but they never expected any, and postmen and posts held little interest for them as a rule. To-day, though, it had brought them something. "I have heard from your mother, dears," said Cousin Charlotte, "and she sends you her love, and hopes you have arrived safely." "Oh, we ought to let her know," cried Penelope, with sudden remorse that they had none of them thought of doing so before.