y. "I'll try to manage. But
I haven't any bonnet. Nothing but a pink sunbonnet."

"All right, wear that," said David.

"It will look a little queer, won't it?" said Marcia doubtfully, and yet
as if the idea expressed a certain freedom which was grateful to her.

"Never mind," said David. "Wear it. Don't wear any more of those other
things. Pack them all up and send them where they belong, just as quick as
we get home."

There was something masterful and delightful in David's voice, and Marcia
with a happy laugh took her candle and got up saying, with a ring of joy
in her voice: "All right!" She went to her room with David's second
good-night ringing in her ears and her heart so light she wanted to sing.

Not at once did Marcia go to her bed. She set her candle upon the bureau
and began to search wildly in a little old hair-cloth trunk, her own
special old trunk that had contained her treasures and which had been sent
her after she left home. She had scarcely looked into it since she came to
the new home. It seemed as if her girlhood were shut up in it. Now she
pulled it out from the closet.

What a flood of memories rushed over her as she opened it! There were
relics of her school days, and of her little childhood. But she had no
time for them now. She was in search of something. She touched them
tenderly, but laid them all out one after another upon the floor until
down in the lower corner she found a roll of soft white cloth. It
contained a number of white garments, half a dozen perhaps in all,
finished, and several others cut out barely begun. They were her own work,
every stitch, the first begun when she was quite a little girl, and her
stepmother started to teach her to sew. What pride she had taken in them!
How pleased she had been when allowed to put real tucks in some of them!
She had thought as she sewed upon them at different times that they were
to be a part of her own wedding trousseau. And then her wedding had come
upon her unawares, with the trousseau ready-made, and everything belonged
to some one else. She had folded her own poor little garments away and
thought never to take them out again, for they seemed to belong to her
dead self.

But now that dead self had suddenly come to life again. These hated things
that she had worn for a year that were not hers were to be put away, and,
pretty as they were, many of them, she regretted not a thread of them.

She laid the white garments out upon a chair