"And do you remember," burst in Angela, "our dear little rooms, and how lovely it all looked when we came that night, and dear old Guard,"—her voice wavered and dropped—"came out to meet us, and Anna?"
"And I was so troubled about our clothes because we were so shabby, and— but it never seemed to matter much. Cousin Charlotte made everything come right. Isn't it wonderful, all that has happened just through mother's writing to Cousin Charlotte, and Cousin Charlotte being able to take us!"
"Wonderful," said Penelope softly; and back to her mind as through a vague dream came a vision of a child lying amidst the long coarse grass of an untidy garden, with butterflies, yellow and white and brown, flitting about over her head, while through her mind as she watched them passed visions and dreams of the future, and vague wonderings as to what it would bring.
"And this is what it has brought," she thought to herself. "I shall not be afraid to take the next step now. God has been so good to us."