t of her life in tansy and buttermilk. Christina would do
the same, and she would buy some of that pink complexion cure that was
in the corner store window, and which Tilly Holmes, the store-keeper's
daughter, said would wash anything off your face, even a scar. And she
would put her hair up in curl-papers every night, and best of all, she
would take the twenty-five cents that Uncle Neil would give her, and
after she had paid for the complexion cure, she would buy a yard of
pink satin ribbon and tie up her hair and she would look as fine and
handsome as Joanna Falls herself, and even Mrs. Johnnie Dunn would have
to admit that she was as good-looking as any of the Lindsays!

And as if to put emphasis upon her vow, she tossed the last cupful of
berries into her pail, and found it heaping full! She had won the
money! She caught up her pail and hurried joyfully to the spot where
she had last seen Sandy, her spirits rising at every step. She was
already on the way to beauty and success, by way of tansy and
buttermilk and twenty-five; cents worth of complexion cure and pink
ribbon!

Unmindful of many scratches, she tore through a clump of briars, and
almost tumbled over a small figure crouched in the pathway. It was a
boy in a ragged shirt and a pair of trousers many sizes too large for
him. He was kneeling beside an overturned pail, and was striving
desperately to gather up a mashed heap of berries and sand.

"Oh," cried Christina, stopping short in sympathetic dismay, "oh,
Gavin. What did you do?"

The boy looked up. He was holding his mouth in a tight line, manfully
keeping back the misery his eyes could not hide. "I--I jist fell over
them," he said with a desperate effort at nonchalance.

Christina put down her pail and tried to help. She had never liked
Gavin Hume. He was a Scotch boy, whom old Skinflint Jenkins' folks had
adopted from an Orphan Asylum. He was dirty and shy, and at school the
girls laughed at him and the boys teased him. But to-day he was in
trouble, and rumour had it that Gavin's life was one long period of
trouble, for the Jenkinses were hard people.

"It's no use," declared Christina at last, examining the dreadful mess,
and thinking of what her mother would do with it, "they're too dirty to
use, Gavin. Never mind," she added comfortingly, "she won't scold,
will she?"

The boy gave a half-contemptuous gesture. "Scold? I wouldn't care
about that. _He_ said he'd give me the hor