“I don’t want anything, thank you,” said she; “at least, I mean I have no money to buy anything with:  I was only counting the things I should like to get if I had.”

And then, as the floor of the bazaar would not open and swallow her up, she ran away, with her red face and her empty pocket, to shelter herself with Podmore at the mock-jewellery stall, and she did not go to the bazaar any more.

Once again disappointment was in store for Madam Liberality.  The end of her visit came, and her godmother’s promise seemed to be forgotten.  But the-night before her departure, the old lady came into her room and said,

“I couldn’t take you with me to-day, child, but I didn’t forget my promise.  Podmore says you’ve been very good, and so I’ve brought you a present.  A very useful one, I hope,” added the old lady, in a tone as if she were congratulating herself upon her good sense.  “And tell Catherine—­that’s your mother, child—­with my love, always to have you dressed for the evening.  I like to see children come in to dessert, when they have good manners—­which I must say you have; besides, it keeps the nurses up to their work.”

And then she drew out from its paper a little frock of pink mousseline-de-laine, very prettily tacked together by the young woman at the millinery-stall, and very cheap for its gay appearance.

Down came all Madam Liberality’s visions in connection with the toy-stall:  but she consoled herself that night with picturing Darling’s delight when she gave her (as she meant to give her) the pink dress.

She had another source of comfort and anticipation—­the scallop-shells.

But this requires to be explained.  The greatest prize which Madam Liberality had gained from her wanderings by the seashore was a complete scallop-shell.  When washed the double shell was as clean and as pretty as any china muffin-dish with a round top; and now her ambition was to get four more, and thus to have a service for doll’s feasts which should far surpass the oyster-shells.  She was talking about this to Podmore one day when they were picking cowries together, and Podmore cried, “Why, this little girl would get you them, miss, I’ll be bound!”

She was a bare-footed little girl, who sold pebbles and seaweed, and salt water for sponging with, and she had undertaken to get the scallop-shells, and had run off to pick seaweed out of a newly landed net before Madam Liberality could say “Thank you.”

She heard no more of the shells, however, until the day before she went away, when the butler met her as she came indoors, and told her that the little girl was waiting.  And it was not till Madam Liberality saw the scallop-shells lying clean and pink in a cotton handkerchief that she remembered that she had no money to pay for them.

Here was another occasion for painful truthtelling!  But to make humiliating confession before the butler seemed almost beyond even Madam Liberality’s moral courage.  He went back to his pantry, however, and she pulled off her pretty pink neckerchief and said,