d
tied them back with a ribbon, changed her shoes, and then slipped on
the pretty frock, managing to fasten all but the three middle buttons,
which she reserved for Emma Jane.

Then her eye fell on her cherished pink sunshade, the exact match, and
the girls had never seen it. It wasn't quite appropriate for school,
but she needn't take it into the room; she would wrap it in a piece of
paper, just show it, and carry it coming home. She glanced in the
parlor looking-glass downstairs and was electrified at the vision. It
seemed almost as if beauty of apparel could go no further than that
heavenly pink gingham dress! The sparkle of her eyes, glow of her
cheeks, sheen of her falling hair, passed unnoticed in the
all-conquering charm of the rose-colored garment. Goodness! it was
twenty minutes to one and she would be late. She danced out the side
door, pulled a pink rose from a bush at the gate, and covered the mile
between the brick house and the seat of learning in an incredibly short
time, meeting Emma Jane, also breathless and resplendent, at the
entrance.

"Rebecca Randall!" exclaimed Emma Jane, "you're handsome as a picture!"

"I?" laughed Rebecca "Nonsense! it's only the pink gingham."

"You're not good looking every day," insisted Emma Jane; "but you're
different somehow. See my garnet ring; mother scrubbed it in soap and
water. How on earth did your aunt Mirandy let you put on your bran' new
dress?"

"They were both away and I didn't ask," Rebecca responded anxiously.
"Why? Do you think they'd have said no?"

"Miss Mirandy always says no, doesn't she?" asked Emma Jane.

"Ye--es; but this afternoon is very special--almost like a
Sunday-school concert."

"Yes," assented Emma Jane, "it is, of course; with your name on the
board, and our pointing to your flag, and our elergant dialogue, and
all that."

The afternoon was one succession of solid triumphs for everybody
concerned. There were no real failures at all, no tears, no parents
ashamed of their offspring. Miss Dearborn heard many admiring remarks
passed upon her ability, and wondered whether they belonged to her or
partly, at least, to Rebecca. The child had no more to do than several
others, but she was somehow in the foreground. It transpired afterwards
at various village entertainments that Rebecca couldn't be kept in the
background; it positively refused to hold her. Her worst enemy could
not have called her pushing. She was ready and willing and nev