Presently Lillie chanced to glance at the little communicant’s white gown, which, though fresh and dainty as loving hands could make it, was unmistakably well worn, and in some places had evidently been carefully darned; indeed, her sharp eyes discovered even a tiny tear in the skirt, as if Annie had unwittingly put her fingers through it when searching for the pocket.

“Why, Annie Brogan,” she exclaimed, thoughtlessly, “you did not wear that dress to make your First Communion!”

“Yes, to be sure.  Did not mother do it up nicely?” answered Annie, with naive appreciation of the patient, painstaking skill which had laid the small tucks so neatly, and fluted the thin ruffles without putting a hole through them.  “And mother was saying, when she was at work on it, how thankful we ought to be to have it; since, much as she wished to buy a dress for me, she would not have been able to do so, with the rent and everything to pay; and how good your mamma was to give it to me.”

“Pshaw!” rejoined Lillie.  “I could have given you a dress ten times better than that if I had only remembered.  Mamma just happened to put that in with a bundle of some of my last summer’s clothes, which she hoped Mrs. Brogan might find useful.  But she never dreamed you would wear it to-day.”

“I thought it was so nice!” said Annie, coloring, while a few tears of chagrin and disappointment sprang to her eyes; somehow, a shadow seemed to have unaccountably arisen to dim the brightness of this fairest of days,—­a wee bit of a shadow, felt rather than defined.

“So it is nice!” declared Constance, frowning at impulsive Lillie, to warn her that she had blundered.  “It is ironed perfectly; your mother has made it look beautiful.  And what a pretty veil you have!”

“Yes, I did buy that,” replied Annie, in a more cheerful tone.

“Oh, it’s all right!  And Our Lord must have welcomed you gladly, Annie, you are so good and sweet,” added Lillie.  “I didn’t mean any harm in noticing your dress; it was only one of my stupid speeches.”

Lillie looked so sorry and vexed with herself that Annie laughed.  The shadow was lifted; the children wished one another good-bye; Annie went homeward, while the others quickened their pace, fearing that they would be late for school.

But the circumstance had made an impression, especially upon Lillie; and at the noon recreation, which the first communicants spent together, she hastened to tell her companions about it.

“Just imagine!” she cried; “Annie Brogan made her First Communion this morning, and she wore an old dress of mine,—­an old dress, all mended up, that mamma gave her!”

“The idea!”—­“What was she thinking of?” etc., etc.; such were the exclamations with which this announcement was greeted.  Most of the girls did not know in the least of whom Lillie was speaking, but it was the fact which created such a sensation.