"My own child!" she whispered. Drawing her closer still, "My dearest, my best, my own little child!" She burst into a torrent of heavy tears.
II
The morning crept into a splendid day. All the winged world seemed mad with song when Mrs. Allison's guests woke and dressed, eager to go out early into the sunshine. Baskets were laden with good things for the picnic. Every one was in gay spirits. Lucy and her sister were together, the one trying to persuade the other to accompany the party.
"Virginia, do come. It will be lovely; such a day. Look out at the sky—so blue, not a cloud." But Virginia would not listen.
"Lucy, for goodness sake, don't put on that dress! Where did you get it? It's hideous!"
Lucy pouted.
"I like it best of all my things," she said. "You never approve what I like in clothes."
"But you like such bright colours. Why, Lucy, what is this? I never saw this collection before." Virginia drew from an open
