"And there were n't a dozen handkerchiefs, I tell you," groaned Margaret, "except the cotton ones I sent to Mary's two girls, Jennie and Carrie, six to each. Think of it—cotton handkerchiefs to Barbara Marsh! And that red flannel petticoat, and those ridiculous gloves and socks! Oh, Polly Ann, Polly Ann, how could you have done such a thing, and got everything so hopelessly mixed? There was n't a thing, not a single thing right but that doll for Roselle."
Polly Ann lifted her head suddenly.
"Have you heard from—Mary?" she asked in a faint voice.
"Not yet. But I shall, of course. I suppose they got John's things.
Imagine it! Mary Hemenway and a Duchesse lace collar!"
"Oh, but Mary would like that," interposed Polly Ann feverishly. "You know she's invited out a good deal in a quiet way, and a bit of nice lace does dress up a plain frock wonderfully."
"Nonsense! As if she knew or cared whether it was Duchesse or—or imitation Val! She 's not used to such things, Polly Ann. She would n't know what to do with them if she had them. While John and Julia—dear, dear, what shall I do? Think of it—a red flannel petticoat to Madam Marsh!"
Polly Ann laughed. A sudden vision had come to her of Madam Marsh as she had seen her last at a family wedding clad in white lace and amethysts, and with an amethyst tiara in her beautifully dressed hair.
Margaret Brackett frowned.
"It's no laughing matter, Polly Ann," she said severely. "I shall write to both families and explain, of course. In fact, I have done that already to John and Julia. But nothing, nothing can take away my mortification that such a thing should have occurred at all. And when I took so much pains in selecting those presents, to get suitable ones for both boxes. I can't forgive you, Polly Ann; I just can't. And, what's more, I don't see how in the world you did it. I am positive that I had each thing marked carefully, and—"
She did not finish her sentence. Sarah Bird brought in a letter, and with a petulant exclamation Margaret Brackett tore it open.