“Where did you get this stuff?” she inquired, as soon as she was able to speak.

“Oh, we’ve had it in the house quite a while,” said Prudence, adding swiftly, “Isn’t it warm, Connie?  Oh, it does look nice, doesn’t it, Fairy?  Do you want it a little shorter, Connie, or is that about right?”

“About right, I guess.  Did you ever have a coat like this, Prudence?  I don’t seem to remember it.’”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t mine.  Take some more candy, Connie.  Isn’t it good?—­Let’s put a little more fullness in the sleeves, Fairy.  It’s more stylish this year.—­The collar fits very nicely.  The velvet gives it such a rich tone.  And brown is so becoming to you.”

“Thanks,” said Connie patiently.  “Was this something of yours, Fairy?”

“Oh, no, we’ve just had it in the house quite a while.  It comes in very handy right now, doesn’t it?  It’ll make you such a serviceable, stylish coat.  Isn’t it about time for the twins to get here, Prudence?  I’m afraid they are playing along the road.  Those girls get more careless every day of their lives.”

“Well, if this didn’t belong to one of you, whose was it?” demanded Connie.  “I know the twins never had anything like this.  It looks kind of familiar to me.  Where did it come from?”

“Out of the trunk in the garret, Connie.  Don’t you want some more fudge?  I put a lot of nuts in, especially on your account.”

“It’s good,” said Connie, taking another piece.  She examined the cloth very closely.  “Say, Prudence, isn’t this that old brown coat of father’s?”

Fairy shoved her chair back from the machine, and ran to the window.  “Look, Prue,” she cried.  “Isn’t that Mrs. Adams coming this way?  I wonder——­”

“No, it isn’t,” answered Connie gravely.  “It’s just Miss Avery getting home from school.—­Isn’t it, Prudence?  Father’s coat, I mean?”

“Yes, Connie, it is,” said Prudence, very, very gently.  “But no one here has seen it, and it is such nice cloth,—­just exactly what girls are wearing now.”

“But I wanted a new coat!” Connie did not cry.  She stood looking at Prudence with her wide hurt eyes.

“Oh, Connie, I’m just as sorry as you are,” cried Prudence, with starting tears.  “I know just how you feel about it, dearest.  But the people didn’t pay father up last month, and nothing has come in for this month yet, and we’ve had so much extra expense.—­I will have to wear my old shoes, too, Connie, and you know how they look!  The shoemaker says they aren’t worth fixing, so I must wear them as they are.—­But maybe after Christmas we can get you a coat.  They pay up better then.”

“I think I’d rather wear my summer coat until then,” said Connie soberly.

“Oh, but you can’t, dearest.  It is too cold.  Won’t you be a good girl now, and not make sister feel badly about it?  It really is becoming to you, and it is nice and warm.  You know parsonage people just have to practise economy, Connie,—­it can’t be helped.  Take some more fudge, dear, and run out-of-doors a while.  You’ll feel better about it presently, I’m sure.”