As she tied the sheet of flannel over her smart gown, she whispered to
Jane:

"Go down and tell Mr Breen that Miss Pennycuick is going to stay to
dinner."

Then she turned up her sleeves, settled herself upon a low chair, and,
with bath-tub and belaced toilet basket, and warming night-clothes
around her, performed the task that made this hour the happiest of her
happy day. As closely as the romping children allowed, Deb watched her,
and marvelled at her quick skill and lightness of hand. Who would have
thought that little Rose could be so clever? The healthy baby, so
deftly handled, raised no protest, but curled her toes as if she
enjoyed it; and when all was done, the snowy-robed, perfumed creature
was laid to its young mother's generous breast, and sucked itself to
sleep in five minutes. Deb, wistfully observant, began to dimly
apprehend that to wish Rose's marriage undone would be about as kind as
to wish back to earth the dead whom we believe in heaven.

Meanwhile, Peter had been bustling about after such dinner arrangements
as he could attend to. Mr Thornycroft himself had never taken
more pains to please this guest. Deb enjoyed strawberries for the first
time that season, and a glass of wine that even Claud could not have
carped at. Coffee was brought to the drawing-room, from which Rose
slipped away for a whispered colloquy with her husband in the hall; the
result of which was that they came in together to ask Miss Pennycuick
to do them the honour of standing godmother to the baby. Deb put the
crown upon the gracious day by promptly consenting.

"But that," she thought, with some chagrin, as she rolled homewards--