Thy walls are made of precious stones, Thy bulwarks diamonds square; Thy gates are of right Orient pearls, Exceeding rich and rare. Thy gardens and thy gallant walks Continually are green! There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen. Our Lady sings Magnificat, In tones surpassing sweet; And all the virgins bear their part, Sitting about her feet." Mrs. Donald came with them to the door and thanked them for coming. They had cheered Peggy, she said. Elizabeth looked at her wistfully. "Do you think it unseemly of me to talk about new clothes and foolish things to little Peggy? But if it gives her a tiny scrap of pleasure? It can't do her any harm." "Mebbe no'," said Peggy's mother. "But why do you speak about her going to visit you in summer? She is aye speaking about it, and fine you know she'll never see Etterick." Her tone was almost accusing. Elizabeth caught both her hands, and the tears stood in her eyes as she said, "Oh! dear Mrs. Donald, it is only to help Peggy over the hard bits of the road. Little things, light bright ribbons and dresses, and things to look forward to, help when one is a child. If Peggy is not here when summer comes, we may be quite sure it doesn't vex her that she is not seeing Etterick. She"--her voice broke--"she will have far, far beyond anything we can show her--the King in His beauty and the land that is very far off." _CHAPTER XII_ "They confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims." "Let's walk home," suggested Arthur, as they came out into the street. "It's such a ripping evening." Elizabeth agreed, and they started off through the busy streets. After weeks of dripping weather the frost had come, and had put a zest and a sparkle into life. In the brightly lit shops, as they passed, the shop-men were serving customers briskly, with quips and jokes for such as could appreciate badinage. Wives, bare-headed, or with tartan shawls, ran down from their stair-heads to get something tasty for their men's teas--a kipper, maybe, or a quarter of a pound of sausage, or a morsel of steak. Children were coming home from school; lights were lit and blinds were down--life in a big city is a cheery thing on a frosty November evening. Elizabeth, generally so alive to everything that went on around her, walked wrapped in thought. Suddenly she said: "I'm _horribly_ sorry for Mrs. Donald. Inarticulate people suffer so much more than their noisy sisters. Other mothers say, 'Well, it must just have been to be: everything was done that could be done,' and comfort themselves with that. She says nothing, but looks at one with those suffering eyes. _My dear little Peggy!_ No wonder her mother's heart is nearly broken." Arthur murmured something sympathetic, and they walked on in silence, till he said: "I want to ask you something. Don't answer unless you like, because it's frightful cheek on my part.... Do you really believe all that?" "All what?"