How wonderful to know that she and Angus were going off alone, this afternoon, to Italy for their honeymoon! It seemed, somehow, too good to be true.
“A large box has come for you from Paris. I wonder what can be in it?” said the matron, smiling.
“But I don’t know anyone in Paris!” But even as she said the words one of the V.A.D.’s with whom Lily had made friends during the last few days brought in a large box, covered with that curious black shiny paper with which French people do up parcels.
“I don’t think it can be for me,” exclaimed Lily doubtfully.
“Oh yes, it is. It’s been expressed by passenger train.”
“How very, very strange!”
She jumped out of bed, and looked down eagerly at the mysterious box. It was addressed “Mademoiselle Fairfield.”
The V.A.D. cut the stout cord, and lifted the wooden lid. Layer after layer of tissue paper was taken out, and then, finally, a beautiful ermine coat emerged, together with a quaint little ermine toque, in which nestled a sprig of orange-blossom and of myrtle!
It was the matron who finally espied a visiting-card, on which was written in tiny characters:
“With the donor’s sincere good wishes. Papa Popeau hopes that Mademoiselle Lily will honour him by wearing his wedding gift on her marriage day.”