"I can't stop to talk, Cousin Anania."

"But which gown is it?--tell me that!" cried Anania, in an agony of disappointed curiosity.

"It's a crimson woollen one. Good morrow."

"What! never that lovely robe she had on yesterday? Saints bless us all!" was the last scream that reached them from Anania.

Stephen laughed merrily as Derette came up with him.

"We have got clear of the dragon this time," said he.

A few minutes brought them to the Walnut Tree.

"Haimet--Oh, it's Stephen!" cried Isel in a tone of sore distress, as soon as he appeared at the door. "Do, for mercy's sake--I'm just at my wits' end to think whatever--Oh, there she is!"

"Yes, Mother, I'm here," said Derette demurely.

"Yes, she's here, and no harm done, but good, I reckon," added Stephen.

"Still, I think it might be as well to look after her a bit, Aunt Isel.

If she were to take it into her head to go to London to see the Lady Queen, perhaps you mightn't fancy it exactly."

"What has she been doing?" asked Isel in consternation.

"Only paying a visit to the Countess," said Stephen, laughing.

By this time Derette had undone the knots on the handkerchief, and the crimson robe was revealed in all its beauty.

"Agnes," she said quietly, but with a little undertone of decided triumph, "this is for you. You won't have to give up your gown, though you did give Mother the money."

A robe, in the Middle Ages, meant more than a single gown, and the crimson woollen was a robe. Under and upper tunics, a mantle, and a corset or warm under-bodice, lay before the eyes of the amazed Agnes.

"Derette, you awful child!" exclaimed her mother almost in terror, "what have you been after, and where did you get all that? Why, it's a new robe, and fit for a queen!"

"Don't scold the child," said Stephen. "She meant well, and I believe she behaved well; she got more than she asked for, that's all."

"Please, it isn't quite new, Mother, because the Lady wore it yesterday; but she said she hadn't one done with, so she gave me one she was wearing."

Bit by bit the story was told, while Isel held up her hands in horrified astonishment, which she allowed to appear largely, and in inward admiration of Derette's spirit, of which she tried to prevent the appearance. She was not, however, quite able to effect her purpose.

"_Meine Kind_!" cried Agnes, even more amazed and horrified than Isel.

"Dat is not for me. It is too good. I am only poor woman. How shall I such beautiful thing wear?"

"But it is for you," pleaded Derette earnestly, "and you must wear it; because, you see, if you did not, it would seem as if I had spoken falsely to the Lady."

"Ay, I don't see that you can do aught but take it and wear it," said Stephen. "Great ladies like ours don't take their gifts back."

Gerhardt had come in during the discussion.

"Nor does the Lord," he said, "at least not from those who receive them worthily. Take it from Him, dear, with thankfulness to the human instruments whom He has used. He saw thy need, and would not suffer thee to want for obeying His command."

"But is it not too fine, Gerhardt?"

"It might be if we had chosen it," answered Gerhardt with a smile; "but it seems as if the Lord had chosen it for thee, and that settles the matter. It is only the colour, after all."

There was no tr.i.m.m.i.n.g on the robe, save an edging of grey fur,--not even embroidery: and no other kind of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g was known at that time. Agnes timidly felt the soft, fine texture.

"It is beautiful!" she said.

"Oh, it is beautiful enough, in all conscience," said Isel, "and will last you a life-time, pretty nigh. But as to that dreadful child--"

"Now, Mother, you won't scold me, will you?" said Derette coaxingly, putting her arms round Isel's neck. "I haven't done any harm, have I?"

"Well, child, I suppose you meant well," said Isel doubtfully, "and I don't know but one should look at folks' intentions more than their deeds, in especial when there's no ill done; but--"

"Oh, come, let's forgive each other all round!" suggested Stephen.

"Won't that do?"

Isel seemed to think it would, for she kissed Derette.

"But you must never, never do such a thing again, child, in all the days of your life!" said she.

"Thank you, Mother, I don't want to do it again just now," answered Derette in a satisfied tone.

The afternoon was not over when Anania marched into the Walnut Tree.

"Well, Aunt Isel! I hope you are satisfied _now_!"

"With what, Anania?"

"That dreadfully wicked child. Didn't I tell you? I warned you to look after her. If you only would take good advice when folks take the trouble to give it you!"

"Would you be so good as to say what you mean, Anania? I'm not at all satisfied with dreadfully wicked children. I'm very much dissatisfied with them, generally."

"I mean Derette, of course. I hope you whipped her well!"

"What for?" asked Isel, in a rather annoyed tone.

"'What for?'" Anania lifted up her hands. "There now!--if I didn't think she would just go and deceive you! She can't have told you the truth, of course, or you could never pa.s.s it by in that light way."

"If you mean her visit to the Castle," said Isel in a careless tone, "she told us all about it, of course, when she got back."

"And you take it as coolly as that?"

"How did you wish me to take it? The thing is done, and all's well that ends well. I don't see that it was so much out of the way, for my part.

Derette got no harm, and Agnes has a nice new gown, and n.o.body the worse. If anybody has a right to complain, it is the Countess; and I can't see that she has so much, either; for she needn't have given the robe if she hadn't liked."

"Oh, she's no business to grumble; she has lots more of every thing.

She could have twenty robes made like that to-morrow, if she wanted them. I wish I'd half as many--I know that!"