the thought of this little recitation; but her pleasure met with a
sudden check upon the discovery that a white dress would be necessary.
She hadn't a white dress, and she knew it was hopeless to think of
getting one in time, still she couldn't help mentioning it to her
mother.

"A white dress! Will you tell me how on earth you could get one? Even if
I had the money to buy it, where would I find time to make it? It is all
nonsense anyway." Mrs. Bond was tired out and spoke with more emphasis
than she would otherwise have used.

Her daughter turned away quite crushed by the pitiless logic. She should
have to tell Miss Ellen and the girls that she couldn't be in it
because she hadn't any dress. She couldn't help shedding some bitter
tears, and that was how the Spectacle Man found out about it.

Her mother sent her into the shop to get some change, and his supply
being low Mr. Clark despatched Dick to get some; then noticing the red
eyes, he asked what the trouble was, and something in his kind,
sympathetic face drew forth the story.

As he listened an idea came to the Spectacle Man. "Now, Emma," he said,
"don't worry any more about this till--well, till Monday morning. This
is Friday, so you won't have to do anything about it till then, and in
the meantime something may happen. Indeed, I'm almost sure something
will."

All this may not have been very logical, but Emma carried away her
change with a much lighter heart.

That evening when Mrs. Morrison went in to pay her rent, she stopped to
chat with the optician. Frances was eating oyster soup upstairs with
Miss Sherwin and Zenobia in attendance, and her mother was feeling very
happy.

"Mrs. Morrison," Mr. Clark began in a somewhat embarrassed manner as she
was about to leave, "you know more of the value of such things than I
do; do you think any of these old belongings of mine are worth anything?
In money, I mean." By a wave of his hand he seemed to indicate all that
was in the room.

"I should think so. The portrait, of course, is, and that cabinet looks
very handsome to me. Are you thinking of selling?" she asked.

"I may have to, the times are so hard, and Mark must be kept at school.
Some of my investments aren't paying anything now." He paused a moment,
then added, "You wouldn't believe what a foolish old fellow I am, but
I'd rather set my heart on giving that portrait to some collection. I
have liked to think how it would look on the catalogue,--'Presen