Anne suggested that they should go upstairs and help Nanna.  Nanna was in Majendie’s room, turning out his drawers.  On his bed there was a pile of suits of the year before last, put aside to be given to Anne’s poor people.  When Peggy was tired of fetching and carrying, she watched her mother turning over the clothes and sorting them into heaps.  Anne’s methods were rapid and efficient.

“Oh, mummy!” cried Peggy, “don’t!  You touch daddy’s things as if you didn’t like them.”

“Peggy, darling, what do you mean?”

“You’re so quick.”  She laid her face against one of Majendie’s coats and stroked it.  “Must daddy’s things go away?”

“Yes, darling.  Why don’t you want them to go?”

“Because I love them.  I love all his little coats and hats and shoes and things.”

“Oh, Peggy, Peggy, you’re a little sentimentalist.  Go and see what Nanna’s got there.”

Nanna had given a cry of joyous discovery.  “Look, ma’am,” said she, “what I’ve found in master’s portmanteau.”

Nanna came forward, shaking out a child’s frock.  A frock of pure white silk, embroidered round the neck and wrists with a deep border of daisies, pink and white and gold.

“Nanna!”

“Oh, mummy, what is it?”

Peggy touched a daisy with her soft forefinger and shrank back shyly.  She knew it was her birthday, but she did not know whether the frock had anything to do with that, or no.

“I wonder,” said Anne, “what little girl daddy brought that for.”

“Did daddy bring it?”

“Yes, daddy brought it.  Do you think he meant it for her birthday, Nanna?”

“Well, m’m, he may have meant it for her birthday last year.  I found it stuffed into ’is portmanteau wot ’e took with him in the yacht a year ago.  It’s bin there—­poked away in the cupboard, ever since.  I suppose he bought it, meaning to give it to Miss Peggy, and put it away and forgot all about it.  See, m’m”—­Nanna measured the frock against Peggy’s small figure—­“it’d ‘a’ bin too large for her, last birthday.  It’ll just fit her now, m’m.”

“Oh, Peggy!” said Anne.  “She must put it on.  Quick, Nanna.  You shall wear it, my pet, and surprise daddy.”

“What fun!” said Peggy.

“Isn’t it fun?” Anne was as gay and as happy as Peggy.  She was smiling her pretty smile.

Peggy was solemnly arrayed in the little frock.  The borders of daisies showed like a necklace and bracelets against her white skin.

“Well, m’m,” said Nanna, “if master did forget, he knew what he was about, at the time, anyhow.  It’s the very frock for her.”

“Yes.  See, Peggy—­it’s daisies, marguerites.  That’s why daddy chose it—­for your little name, darling, do you see?”

“My name,” said Peggy softly, moved by the wonder and beauty of her frock.

“There he is, Peggy!  Run down and show yourself.”

“Oh, muvver,” shrieked Peggy, “it will be a surprise for daddy, won’t it?”