Then she asked me in her soft quaint ac­cent how I had passed the night, and whether I was very much in­con­veni­enced by wear­ing the clothes which old Pela­gie had put there for me while I slept. I looked at my own clothes and shoes, dry­ing in the sun by the garden-wall, and hated them. What hor­rors they were com­pared with the grace­ful cos­tume which I now wore! I told her this laugh­ing, but she agreed with me very ser­i­ously.

“We will throw them away,” she said in a quiet voice.