knew except Arabella and me. She just wanted to feel that the monograms
were on her dress, that was all."

"How strange!"

"Yes, it was. But this is a vehy strange part of the world."

"And what happened afterwards?"

"Bella died when she had her first baby, and the baby died as well. And the
father's dead now, too."

"What a horrid story, Winnie!" Audrey murmured. And after a pause: "I like
your sister."

"She was vehy uncommon. But I liked her too. I don't know why, but I did.
She could make the best marmalade I ever tasted in my born days."

"I could make the best marmalade you ever tasted in your born days," said
Audrey, sinking neatly to the floor and crossing her legs, "but they won't
let me."

"Won't let you! But I thought you did all sorts of things in the house."

"No, Winnie. I only do one thing. I do as I'm told--and not always even
that. Now, if I wanted to make the best marmalade you ever tasted in your
born days, first of all there would be a fearful row about the oranges.
Secondly, father would tell mother she must tell me exactly what I was to
do. He would also tell cook. Thirdly and lastly, dear friends, he would
come into the kitchen himself. It wouldn't be my marmalade at all. I should