We were rather troubled about Annie Pore and what on earth she was going to wear to the concert. Her wardrobe, not being extensive, was well known to all of her friends and certainly there was nothing suitable in it for a girl who was going to have to stand up on the stage and sing.

"If she would only not be so proud," groaned Dum; "but who could say to Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 'Let me lend you some of my duds?' Now I shouldn't in the least mind borrowing anything from anybody if I thought the person cared for me. Don't I wear the Liberty scarf your Cousin Sue sent you every time I find it idle, and if I could borrow from you, Page, why shouldn't Annie?"

"Well, it is different, Dum, because Annie hasn't got anything. You borrow the scarf just as a frill, but if it were a necessity I don't believe you would." I had intense sympathy for Annie because I could fancy what my own clothes would have been if dear Cousin Sue Lee had not had them in charge. Miss Pinky Davis, our country dressmaker, would have turned out just such another crooked seamed suit as Annie's if Cousin Sue had not insisted on a mail order, and I know my shirtwaists would have been big where they should have been little, and little where they should have been big: and as for Middy blouses, there is no telling what they would have looked like: rick-rack trimming on the collar, no doubt, and ruffles around the tail. Cousin Sue did let Miss Pinky make me some white evening dresses and they turned out all right because Cousin Sue bridled Miss Pinky's fancy.

"Let me see," said Dee, "as far as I can remember Annie has a blue serge skirt, two white shirtwaists, one blue poplin one and a plaid silk blouse for Sunday. I can't bear to think of her on the stage in any of that array. Of course it makes no difference to any of us, but think of that nasty Mabel Binks and her following! Ugh! I tell you one thing," she added excitedly, "if any of them make Annie feel bad, they've got me to fight."

"Me, too," chimed in Dum.

"Well, I can't see that that would help Annie's clothes much," I laughed, "but it might keep you, Tweedles, from having apoplexy."

"Dee, you've got so much tact, you go see Annie and find out what she is going to wear," suggested Dum.

"Oh, no, not me! I'm so afraid I might leak, and that would never do," and Dee got out a handkerchief ready for emergencies. "You see, I feel so bad about Annie and so desperately sorry for her that I have to cry just thinking about her, and what would it be if she should get out her poor little blouses and ask my advice? Just think of all the clothes Jo Barr has, simply going to waste and how old Jo would love to dress Annie up in them! Still, we all know that Annie would be cut to the quick at the suggestion of such a thing. Oh, dear, oh, dear! I wonder what Zebedee would do."

"Well, I know what I am going to do," I said, uncurling myself from the window sill where I could, by a good deal of craning of the neck, catch a glimpse of my beloved mountains; "I'm going in and have it out with Annie. She knows I love her and I don't believe I'll hurt her feelings. I think she trusts us, and when you really trust people they simply can't hurt your feelings unless you have a natural born chip on your shoulder, which Annie hasn't."

"Oh, Page, you are just like Zebedee," tweedled the twins. "That's what he would do."

I found Annie looking very like old Rain-in-the-Face. She was in a forlorn heap on the floor; her eyes red; her ripe-wheat hair all disheveled; and in her hand a crumpled letter. On the floor by her was an unopened box which had just come by parcels post.

Her "Come in" in answer to my knock had been more like a sob than an invitation to enter.

"What is it, dear Annie? Tweedles and I have just been talking about you and we wonder if you know how much we love you. Do you?"

"Oh, Page, I don't see how you can!"

"Well, we do, and I said I believed you loved us enough to trust us. I mean to understand that we could never hurt your feelings in any possible way, just because we'd rather be boiled alive than hurt you."

Annie looked up and smiled a rather watery smile, but a smile all the same.

"Now s'pose you trust me and tell me what is the matter. What are friends for if you can't tell them your troubles?"

"Oh, Page, I'd like to tell you, but it would seem so disloyal to my Father."

"You understand, Annie, that if you tell me anything it would be just like telling it to a Father Confessor. I mean I'd never breathe a word of it." It sounded as though I were full of curiosity, but while of course I did want to know, my reason for pressing Annie was that I felt she needed to let off steam, that is, her pent-up emotions.

"I know you are the best friend any girl ever had and I believe I will tell you all about everything."

"Well, wash your face first and let me brush your hair while you talk."

So Annie got up and bathed her face, and while I combed and brushed her thick, yellow hair, she told me the following tale:

"You see, Page, my Father is an Englishman and he is awfully proud. He does not understand a little girl a bit nor did he understand my beautiful Mother. He loved her, though, adored her, in fact, and I know has never been happy one minute since she died; that's been about four years now. He does not love me, though, I am afraid; but maybe I do him an injustice and don't understand him. Anyhow, he is never chummy and chatty with me like Mr. Tucker is with Tweedles."

"I bet he does love you, Annie. My Father is not so intimate with me as Mr. Tucker is with his girls, but I know he loves me. You see, Mr. Tucker is almost the same age as his daughters and I fancy your Father is much older than you are, just as mine is." And I went on brushing her hair, knowing she was becoming calmer and beginning rather to enjoy talking about herself.

"My Father, you know, is very well born; in fact, his Father was a baronet of very ancient stock and his elder brother now has the title and estates. Father was educated for the church. He has an Oxford degree and is very scholarly. However, after all his education, he did not want to take orders. He felt that he had no vocation for the ministry, and he and my grandfather had an awful row about it. You see, English younger sons have to do something. Mother told me all this. Father has never mentioned it to me. He occasionally reminds me that I am of good birth and that is his only reference to England. Immediately after this row with Grandfather, he met Mother and fell in love with her at first sight. It was at a Charity Bazaar."

"Oh——!" I exclaimed involuntarily, but made out I was sneezing. I remembered the conversation I had held with Harvie Price about Mrs. Pore and the Charity Bazaar.

"Mother's people are noble, too. She was the daughter of a younger son of the Earl of Garth, but she had not a penny to her name. When she met my Father, she was visiting some very wealthy relatives who were interested in her and preparing to launch her on the concert stage. Mother had a wonderful voice, you know."

"Yes, Harvie Price told me that all the old sinners in your county went to church to hear her sing."

"Well, Mother fell in love, too, and in spite of all that her rich relatives had to say about her career, she married Father; and then what did Grandfather, Sir Isaac Pore, do but stop Father's allowance? It was not very much but it was enough for the young couple to live on if they lived very simply. Sir Isaac thought he could force Father into taking orders; but Father was opposed to doing this, feeling he was not suited to the Church, and Mother upheld him in his resolve."

"They were right, I think. It seems an awful sin to me for a man just to go into the ministry for a living," I ventured.

"Of course they were right. Then my parents were in a quandary. Father had about two thousand dollars to his name and that wouldn't go very far. They decided to come to America, he to go into some kind of business and Mother to do something with her voice. They stayed in New York for a year. He got some teaching, coaching boys for college, and she sang in a church. Mother said they had a hard time. Father's manner was proud and overbearing and he was so intolerant of Americans that he lost pupils constantly. Then my brother was born and Mother had to give up her position in the church."

"Oh, I did not know you had a brother!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, he died before I was born. He lived five years, I believe. I think that is one reason Father does not love me more. You see, all of his hopes were settled on the boy, who was in line for the title. My uncle, the present baronet, has no boys. Well, they got on the best they could until the boy died. They went from place to place, Father always able to get pupils because of his talents and education and always losing them because of his proud intolerance. Mother had lots of tact and charm and she was always smoothing things over and pacifying Father."

"She must have loved him a whole lot not to have pacified him with a big stick," I thought, but I did not give utterance to my reflection.

"They finally landed in Norfolk. I was born there, so you see, I am a Virginian. While at Norfolk, Mother heard of the country store at Price's Landing which could be bought for very little. She had come into possession of a small legacy, and she immediately bought the store and all the stock and we moved there and have been there ever since."

"English people are always getting small legacies. I never heard of Americans getting them," I said as I plaited Annie's hair in the great rope that was the envy of us all.

"We really have prospered at Price's Landing. Mother took charge of the store a great deal and by her graciousness won customers, and when once people get used to Father, they don't seem to mind his stiffness so much; everybody but me; somehow, I'm always afraid of him," and Annie looked very sadly at the crumpled letter in her lap.

"Mother was so gay and cheerful; I wish I could be like her. She would sing at her work and Father would smile and look almost happy when he would hear her voice."

"Don't you sing at your work ever?" I asked.

"No, no, I am so afraid of disturbing Father."

"I bet he'd like it. Why don't you try? Your voice must be like your Mother's."

"Oh, I couldn't—really, Page. Well, to go on:

"Mother used to play a lovely game with me, and no one knew we were playing it, which made it just so much more fun. We used to pretend while we were keeping store that it was a Charity Bazaar——" (I laughed aloud) "especially when dear old General Price came in for anything. You see, most of the people at Price's Landing, while very kind and good, are quite ordinary; but General Price is very aristocratic and fine, and we could play the game with him to perfection. He had so much manner that sometimes it almost seemed that he was playing, too." This was too delicious, and here was I sworn to secrecy! I certainly did want to tell Harvie Price, but a Father Confessor must keep many good things to himself.

"Mother died when I was eleven." I made a rapid calculation how long poor Annie must have been wearing the old crÊpe hat. "Since then, Father and I have looked after the store together and now we have a clerk," only Annie called it "clark." "We are not so poor as we used to be and the books show we are making a very comfortable living, but Father saves and saves. He started doing it before Mother died and it worried her a lot. She said he used to be a great spender and she had to do the saving, but when money began to come more easily he seemed to hate to part with it. She made him promise before she died that I should go to boarding school or I know it would never have come about. Of course he doesn't know how girls of the day dress and how odd I look, but even if he did know I believe he would let me be ridiculous rather than spend money on anything that he considered unnecessary." Annie's eyes flashed, which was an improvement on the eternal tears she seemed so prepared to shed.

"I am going to let you read this letter from him so you can see," and she handed me the crumpled sheet. It was the letter which is in the last chapter.

It was certainly some letter. I could not help comparing it with the one I had just received from my Father, and also one that Tweedles had read me from their Zebedee. I hardly knew what to say but I knew what to think, and that was that one of the so-called "vulgar Americans" ought to give him a good beating!

"Well, Annie, I wouldn't mind that letter. Your Governor evidently doesn't understand girls. Let's have a look in the box." We cut the string and took off the outside wrapper. The box was tightly corded.

"It is just as Mother left it," sighed Annie. "He didn't even open it to see if the things in it were of any value for me. I'm glad he didn't, because I like to feel that I am untying her knots myself."

We didn't cut those strings, but Annie carefully and reverently picked loose the knots. When the top was taken off the box, there was a faint smell of dried rose leaves. The contents were carefully wrapped in blue tissue paper. "To keep the things from turning yellow with age," whispered Annie.

I felt somehow as though I were at a funeral. Annie didn't cry, though, as one might have expected, but her countenance shone with a kind of subdued light and she looked like an angel. She shook out a soft, white, crÊpe de Chine dress made over silk. It looked as fresh as though it had just come from the dressmaker's. In another wrapper was a lovely real lace scarf and in yet another some white silk stockings.

"Oh, Annie, Annie!" and I jumped up and down for joy. "They are exactly right for you! And see how carefully they have been packed! Not a wrinkle in the dress! Here, take off your clothes and try it on."

"Mother wore it at the Charity Bazaar where she met Father. Her rich cousin had just had it made for her," and the excited child began to take off her shabby blouse and skirt.

"All you will need for the concert is white slippers and you will surely wear mine just to let me know you love me," I begged.

Annie flushed and I was afraid her stubborn pride was going to master her, but she astonished me by saying: "Yes, I will wear them if you will lend them to me. I remember Mother told me she had to borrow slippers from a friend that night, but she knew her friend loved her and so did not mind."

I slipped the dress over her head, but as she pushed her arm into the sleeve she stopped and drew her hand quickly out.

"Wait, the sleeve is pinned." So it was, and pinned through a letter that was sealed and addressed to Annie.

"From Mother!" exclaimed the girl, trembling with excitement. "Every now and then I find a little note from her. She knew she could not live for a long time before she died." Out fluttered two ten-dollar bills and a five wrapped in a tiny penciled note.

Something happened right here that was to say the least unexpected: I, Page Allison, gave up and cried like a baby. I know I hadn't cried so since old Buster, my pointer, died. And Annie Pore, instead of bawling, which she would have been perfectly justified in doing, never shed a tear; but with that exalted look on her face, which she had worn from the time she opened the box, she actually comforted me by patting me on the back and smoothing my hair.

"Page, Page, it's all right; don't be so miserable," she said as she endeavored to soothe me. So I blew my blooming nose and made her go on trying on the dress. It was a wonderful fit, just a little too long for a girl of fifteen, but we hemmed it up in no time. Strange to say, although the dress was more than twenty years old, it was not out of style but cut very much according to the prevailing mode. The truth of the matter is that Dame Fortune is quite like the old preacher who wrote a barrel of sermons, and when he had preached them all, he just turned the barrel up-side-down and began again. Fashions and styles get put in the barrel only to appear again after so many years.

"Have you a catalogue for a mail-order house, Page? Because I want to spend my money right off."

"Yes, I'll get it for you just as soon as my nose dies down a little. I don't want Tweedles to know I've been crying. What are you going to get?"

"Plenty of middy blouses and a good skirt to wear with them, some dancing slippers and some kind of simple dress I can put on in the evening, if the money can be stretched to it."

I was sure it could with careful ordering; and in a few minutes I thought my nose would bear inspection, so I went back to 117 to get the catalogue. Tweedles was out visiting, so I did not have to run the gauntlet of their curiosity.

Annie and I soon found exactly the right things in my wonder book, and we had the letter written ordering the things before the warning bell rang for visiting to cease.

"I fancy Father would be awfully cut up if he could know I am spending all of this money on my clothes; but he needn't know anything about it. I can wear my old things during the holidays and next summer——"

"Oh, Annie," I broke in, "you are making an awful mistake if you do not let your Father know all about this letter from your Mother, and take him into your confidence immediately. It wouldn't be fair to him if you didn't."

"Not fair to Father! I never thought of such a thing. I am afraid he will be awfully angry with me."

"How could he be? Aren't you doing exactly what your Mother tells you to? I tell you, honey, it pays every time to be perfectly frank. You try and see if it doesn't."

The warning bell rang and I had to beat a hasty retreat, but before I went I kissed poor little Annie and she clung to me and whispered: "I know you are right and I'll write to Father to-morrow and send him Mother's letter."

"That's a good girl; but, Annie, get your letter off to New York for your things first before the Governor has time to veto it."

"Well, what ho!" exclaimed the twins as they tore in to our rooms, undressing as they came to beat the lights out bell to bed. "Tell us all about Annie!"

"There's nothing to tell," I declared, making the mental reservation that there was nothing I could tell, "except that her father sent her a pretty white crÊpe de Chine dress that she is going to look charming in, and she has consented to borrow my white slippers for the occasion."

"Oh, how splendid!" cried Dum. But Dee looked at me very solemnly and said: "Page Allison, I know where to put my confidence. Annie Pore has told you the story of her life and wild horses could not drag it from you. I wouldn't have even known she had told if your precious little freckled nose wasn't as red as a cherry." I felt awfully foolish but I borrowed my policy from the Tar Baby "an' kep' on sayin' nothin'."

After the light was out, I gave a little audible chuckle as I lay there going over in my mind the very exciting happenings of the evening. I chuckled to think what Mabel Binks would say if she knew the despised "Orphan Annie" was the granddaughter of a baronet on her father's side and the great-granddaughter of an earl on her mother's.