"I am sorry, Cousin Appolina, that it went in. I—"

"Pearl in an oyster-shell? Nonsense! What do I care about pearls in oyster-shells? Do not try any of those evasions with me; they are of no use. I am shocked, pained, astonished that one of my own kith and kin, the daughter of my cousin Van Aspinwall Reid, should have been guilty of such—such—well, words fail me!—such gross impertinence!"

Millicent forgot her misery, and stared at Miss Briggs in astonishment. "I don't know what you mean, Cousin Appolina, unless it is the slippers."

"Slippers! Yes, you may well allude to the slippers, but the next time you send my gifts to be sold pray be more careful. I drew one of them on my foot this morning and felt the crunch of paper in the toe. I examined the paper, and found it to be this."

Miss Appolina rose and held a small white card toward Millicent. This is what was written upon it:

"I notice that the check which I sent with the slippers was carefully removed. That did not go to the fair," added Miss Briggs, grimly, as she again seated herself.

Millicent burst into tears. All this time Peggy's mind was busy. A terrible temptation stared her in the face. No one seemed to suspect her of having written the lines about her cousin; if she did not confess it, who would know it?

After all, it would do no further harm to Millicent's prospects if Cousin Appolina continued to think that she wrote them, for she would not be chosen to go to England now under any circumstances on account of the slippers.

Should Peggy remain quiet and let it pass? Not a creature but herself knew what she had done, and it would be easy enough to continue to hide it.

"Cousin Appolina," said Millicent, finding her voice at last, "I am so sorry! You see, I hadn't worn the slippers, for the ones you gave me before are still as good as new, and I had nothing to send to the fair, for I don't do any fancy-work, and I thought—perhaps—you wouldn't mind. I didn't notice the paper."

"Evidently not; but what if the shoes had fallen into other hands than mine? What if— But all this amounts to nothing compared with your positive outrageousness in writing those lines about me and sending them to be sold."

"Cousin Appolina, what do you mean?" cried Millicent. "I didn't mean you."

"Mean me?" repeated Miss Briggs, in wrath. "To whom, then, were you referring? Is there another Miss Appolina B.?"

"I can't imagine what you are talking about, honestly, Cousin Appolina, but I really did not mean that you were the pearl in the oyster-shell. I wrote it about some one else."

"Pearl in the oyster-shell! Do not dare to mention that pearl or that oyster-shell again. I am tired of hearing of them both. And do not pretend that you do not understand me, Millicent. You are not so stupid as all that, though I must say you were extraordinarily dull of comprehension when you sent those verses to the fair, and it was astonishingly like you to do it, too. No, this is what I am referring to. Now, what have you to say for yourself?"

She thrust the unlucky booklet at her cousin, and began to walk the floor.

Millicent read the verses:

"Who is a dame of high degree?
Who's always scolded little me?
Who is a sight strange for to see?
Miss Appolina B.

"Who cannot with her friends agree?
Who loves to feed on cakes and tea?
Who prides herself on her pedigree?
Miss Appolina B.

"Who'll soon set sail across the sea?
Who will not take her cousins three?
Who is an ancient, awful she?
Miss Appolina B."

"Who else would have written that about the 'cousins three'" thundered Miss Briggs, as she walked. "And, besides, you have already confessed that you are the author of the rhymes. What more is needed? As for my pedigree, is there a better one in all New York? I may be ancient and I may be awful, but at least I am aristocratic. Cakes and tea forsooth! You have had the last cakes and tea you will ever have in my house. Margaret"—suddenly stopping in front of Peggy—"Margaret, I have decided that you shall be the one to go abroad with me. I have made up my mind to that, now that Millicent has confessed that she wrote the poetry. Yesterday I was in doubt as to which one of you had written it, so I requested you both to come to me, but in the mean time I have read the other poems, and even before Millicent acknowledged it, I knew that they had emanated from no pen but hers! No one else could have been capable of such trash. We will sail, Margaret, on the 1st of June."

Still, Peggy held her peace. She would wait and see what Millicent said. Millicent, too, was silent. At first her astonishment upon reading the verses deprived her of the power of speech. Who in the world could have written them, and how did they get among her poems at the fair? She felt stupefied; but slowly a glimmering of the truth dawned upon her.

She knew that the author of the lines was either her sister or her cousin.

It did not seem like Joan to do it, and yet it was not possible that it could have been Peggy or she would boldly confess it now. It must be Joanna. Whichever it was, Millicent would not speak. The innocent had suffered for the guilty before this. There was no chance whatever of her being chosen for England on account of the slippers, therefore she would not spoil the prospects of the others. She could suffer for two offences as easily as for one.

She rose, placed the verses upon Miss Briggs's desk, and stood before her relative.

"I am very sorry," she said; "I did not know those verses were there. I—I—apologize with all my heart. May I go now?"

"Yes, you may go, and do not come to the house again until you at least appear to be more ashamed of your conduct. You are absolutely unrepentant, I see. Go! Margaret, my dear, I should be glad to have you stay and talk over our trip."

Millicent left the house feeling as if she were walking in a dream. What could it all mean? Of course it was Joan. What a strange thing for the child to do! And how cleverly she had hidden it!

When she was told of the transaction at the fair, of how Cousin Appolina had bought all the poems, she had only laughed and thought it a good joke, and was glad that Millicent's poetry was appreciated. And she went off to school that morning as light-heartedly as possible. Her last words had been:

"I hope you will get through all right with Cousin Appolina, Milly darling, and I hope she hasn't found out about the slippers, and that you will be the one to go to England."

And yet it must have been Joan, for Peggy would certainly have confessed had it been she.

Millicent walked slowly homeward. The French teacher was awaiting her, and her singing master was to come directly afterward, but her lessons did not receive very close attention that day.

In the mean time Peggy was left with her cousin.

"I am astonished at Millicent," said Miss Briggs, as the door closed. "I always suspected that she was silly, but I never supposed she could be impertinent. I shall not mention it in the family, Margaret, and I shall be obliged to you if you will not either. I would not for the world have either her father or yours know what—what she has said about me."

Still, Peggy was strangely silent. She was glad that it was not to be told. She had less compunction about not confessing if the family were not to know it. Now they would merely think it a whim of Cousin Appolina's