"Tell me about Lady Peckham," said she, at last, abruptly. "My mother speaks of her as if she were a saint! Was she really so?" "What do you mean by a saint, Mrs. Paulina?" asked Winifred. Paulina's ideas did not seem very clear. She thought a saint was one who observed all the hours of prayer, and took the sacraments frequently, and attended on the poor and sick, and gave up the world by retiring into a convent or some such place. "And is that all?" asked Winifred. "Of course, a saint would read none but religious books, and wear coarse clothes with haircloth next the skin, and perhaps lie all night in her coffin or upon ashes, and do many penances." "Mrs. Paulina, do you read your Bible and Prayer-book?" asked Winifred. "Of course," answered Paulina, indignantly. "I have read the Bible all through twice, and I know the daily prayers and the Litany and Communion Service by heart." "Well, will you tell me which of the saints of the Bible is described as wearing haircloth next his skin, and sleeping in his coffin upon ashes?" Paulina could not think of any one. "Feeding the poor, and constant prayer, and such like are all well in their way, but they are not enough to make a saint," continued Winifred. "St. Paul says he might give all his goods to feed the poor, and give his body to be burned, yes, and even have faith so that he could remove mountains, and yet all these things might profit him nothing." "I don't see what will make a saint, then," said Paulina. "Suppose you read that same chapter I have quoted—the thirteenth of First Corinthians—and see if it will help you." "But please tell me about Cousin Margaret," said Paulina. "I will at another time. At present I must see to your sisters. Come, girls, let us have a race from end to end of this green alley, and see if it will not give us an appetite for dinner." "I cannot run," said Betsey. "It makes my side ache and my heart beat so." "Well, then, you shall be judge. Come, now—start fair! One, two, three, and away!" This was a new idea—this having a governess who could play with them. When they were out of breath with exercise, Winifred showed them how to make larkspur rings and whole families of dolls out of foxgloves and the small green berries which had fallen from the trees. Never had a play hour passed so pleasantly, so free from quarrelling and fault-finding. "Well, you do look all as fresh as roses!" said Lady Corbet, approvingly, as, with shining hair, neatly arranged dress, and rosy cheeks, the young ladies presented themselves before her at dinner. "Even Betty has a little color in her pale face. I am sure, Mrs. Evans, you know how to deal with them, and I shall leave them entirely to you."