"But it's easily mended, and it won't show," answered Peggy, cheerfully.

"It isn't easy to mend that South American stuff so that it won't show,"
remarked Agnes, coolly.

"I know it isn't usually," answered Peggy, as coolly; "but auntie can
mend almost anything."

"It is a perfectly beautiful dress. I wish I had one just like it,"
broke forth Tilly, hurriedly, hardly knowing what she was saying in the
desire to say something kind.

"You could easily send for one like it," spoke up Agnes, "if you knew
anybody out there, or what shop or convent address to send to."

"We could send for you," said Peggy, turning to Tilly. Tilly looked
startled.

"Have you friends out there?" asked Agnes, with an impertinent stare at
Peggy.

"Yes," answered Peggy, curtly, meeting Agnes's stare with a look of
sudden haughtiness.

Tilly turned hot and cold, but through all her perturbation was one
feeling of satisfaction. Peggy could stand her ground, it seemed, and
resent impertinence; but, "Oh, dear!" said this poor Tilly to herself,
"that South American gown, I suppose, proves that she must be that
Smithson man's daughter; but grandmother was right,--she is innocent of
the facts of the case, of that there can be no doubt,--and we must be