None of the grown-ups were going to church. Aunt Olivia had a
sick headache and Uncle Roger stayed home with her. Aunt Janet
and Uncle Alec had gone to the Markdale service and had not yet
returned.

Felicity and Cecily were wearing their new summer muslins for the
first time--and were acutely conscious of the fact. Felicity,
her pink and white face shadowed by her drooping,
forget-me-not-wreathed, leghorn hat, was as beautiful as usual;
but Cecily, having tortured her hair with curl papers all night,
had a rampant bush of curls all about her head which quite
destroyed the sweet, nun-like expression of her little features.
Cecily cherished a grudge against fate because she had not been
given naturally curly hair as had the other two girls. But she
attained the desire of her heart on Sundays at least, and was
quite well satisfied. It was impossible to convince her that the
satin smooth lustre of her week-day tresses was much more
becoming to her.

Presently Peter and the Story Girl appeared, and we were all more
or less relieved to see that Peter looked quite respectable,
despite the indisputable patch on his trousers. His face was
rosy, his thick black curls were smoothly combed, and his tie was
neatly bowed; but it was his legs which we scrutinized most
anxiously. At first glance they seemed well enough; but closer
inspection revealed something not altogether customary.

"What is the matter with your stockings, Peter?" asked Dan
bluntly.