"Those girls are worrying poor Tilly, auntie, see,--and I dare say it's
on my account, for I was sure when she came out that she was intending
to join us, and that they prevented her,--and, auntie, I'm going to
brave the lions in their dens, and going over to her."

"They are ill-bred girls, and they may do or say something rude,"
replied auntie, regarding Peggy with a slightly anxious expression.

"Oh, I don't care for that now. Tilly is such a darling in sticking to
me, in spite of their disapproval," laughing a little, "that I think I
ought to stick to her;" and, nodding to her auntie, Peggy started on her
friendly errand.

"What impudence! She's actually coming over to us uninvited. Well, I
must say she has nerve!" muttered Agnes, as she observed Peggy's
movements.

Coming forward, Peggy nodded to the whole group of girls; but it was to
Tilly she addressed herself, and by Tilly's side she seated herself. It
was in doing this that the delicate material of her dress caught in a
protruding nail in the splint piazza chair with an ominous sound.

"Oh, your pretty gown! it's torn!" cried Tilly.

The two sprang up to examine it, and found an ugly little rent that had
nearly pulled out one of the wrought rosebuds.

"It's too bad,--too bad!" sympathized Tilly.