“I don’t know about that! I love white legs!” she sighed dolefully. “All my life long it has been my ambition to have white legs. Silk ones with little bits of lace let in down the front, like Peggy’s. They’re so beautiful! It doesn’t seem a bit like a party to wear black stockings, only of course I know I must, for I’d hate to waste father’s money. When I grow up I shall marry a rich man and have everything I want. It’s disgusting to be poor. Will they be nice black slippers, mother, with buckles on them?” “Yes, dearie. Beauties! Great big buckles!” said Mrs. Asplin lovingly, and a few days later a box had come down from London, and the slippers had been chosen out of a selection of “leading novelties”; worn with care and reverence the previous evening “to take off the stiffness,” and then after all—oh, the awfulness of it!—had been replaced by an old pair in the bustle of departure. The three girls stared at one another in consternation. Here was a catastrophe to happen just at the last moment, when everyone was so happy and well satisfied! The dismay on the chubby face was so pitiful that neither of Mellicent’s companions could find it in her heart to speak a word of reproof. They rather set to work to propose different ways out of the difficulty. “Get hold of Max, and coax him to go back for them!” “He wouldn’t, it’s no use. It’s raining like anything, and it would take him an hour to go there and come back.” “Ask Lady Darcy to send one of the servants——” “No use, my dear. They are scampering up and down like mice, and haven’t a moment to spare from their own work.” “See if Rosalind would lend me a pair!” “Silly goose! Look at your foot. It is three times the size of hers. You will just have to wear them, I’m afraid. Give them to me and let me see what can be done.” Peggy took the slippers in her hands and studied them critically. They were certainly not new, but then they were by no means old; just respectable, middle-aged creatures, slightly rubbed on the heel and white at the toes, but with many a day of good hard wear still before them. “Oh, come,” she said reassuringly, “they are not so bad, Mellicent! With a little polish they would look quite presentable. I’ll tap at the door and ask Rosalind if she has some that she can lend us. She is sure to have it. There are about fifty thousand bottles on her table.” Peggy crossed the room as she spoke, tapped on the panel and received an immediate answer in a high complacent treble.