leave a thousand directions for Piqueur about what to serve for the
Major's lunch.

"Never tell me a man knows how to bring up a child," she scolded as
she stirred her soup, "never tell me that! He's done as well as he
could but he's made a fine mess of it--the poor child! Thinking Miss
Octavia would be here--not knowing so much as a new-born kitten--
that's as much sense as she has--as a little new-born kitten!"

And she hurried back with a delectable luncheon on a tray.

Outside the sun had hid itself and the fickle spring clouds were
dripping over the desolate garden. But at the fireside, curled up in
the winged chair with her bandaged foot propped comfortably on a foot-
stool, Felicia sat through the long afternoon and chattered and
laughed and clapped her little hands.

Oh, those foolish clothes that had belonged to Louisa! With their
silly--whaleboned waists and their grotesque basques and impossible
pleatings! Felicia couldn't get one of those bodies half around her
healthy young waist. But she liked the bonnets and the shawls. They
were adorable. The shawls were so soft, so quaintly shaped, the
bonnets were fairly ravishing. Felicia tried them on, peering into a
carved tortoise shell hand mirror, and giggled whimsically at the
little flowered ones with lacy ties and the stuffy winter ones with
velvet bows.

"Miss Louisa was very handsome," Margot informed her, "My aunt says
she was the handsomest girl she ever saw--but very high-minded, very
uppish!"