frantically rummaged the house, the shops, the
stores of her friends, and rummaged in vain. There was no time to send
to the city, and despair was about to fall on Kitty, when Pris rescued
her by quietly making one of the small sacrifices which were easy to
her because her life was spent for others. Some one suggested a strip
of blue illusion,--and that could be got; but, alas! Kitty had
no money, for the gloves were already bought. Pris heard the
lamentations, and giving up fresh ribbons for herself, pulled her
sister out of a slough of despond with two yards of "heavenly tulle."

"Now the daisies; and oh, dear me, not one can I find in this
poverty-stricken town," sighed Kitty, prinking at the glass, and
fervently hoping that nothing would happen to her complexion over
night.

"I see plenty just like those on your dress," answered Pris, nodding
toward the meadow full of young whiteweed.

"Pris, you're a treasure! I'll wear real ones; they keep well, I know,
and are so common I can refresh my bonnet anywhere. It's a splendid
idea."

Away rushed Kitty to return with an apron full of American daisies. A
pretty cluster was soon fastened just over the left-hand frizzle of
bright hair, and the little bonnet was complete.

"Now, Pris, tell me how I look," cried Kitty, as she swept into the
room late that afternoon in full gala costume.

It would have been impossible for the primmest, the sourest, or the
most sensible creature in the world to say that it wasn't a pretty
sight. The long train, the big chignon, the apology for a bonnet, were
all ridiculous,--no one could deny that,--but youth, beauty, and a
happy heart made even those absurdities charming. The erect young
figure gave an air to the crisp folds of the delicate dress; the
bright eyes and fresh cheeks under the lace rosette made one forget
its size; and the rippling brown hair won admiration in spite of the
ugly bunch which disfigured the girl's head. The little jacket set
"divinely," the new gloves were as immaculate as white kids could be,
and to crown all, Lizzie King, in a burst of generosity, lent Kitty
the blue and white Paris sunshade which she couldn't use herself.

"Now I could die content; I'm perfect in all respects, and I know Jack
won't be ashamed of me. I really owe it to him to look my best, you
know, and that's why I'm so particular," said Kitty, in an apologetic
tone, as she began to lay away her finery.

"I hope you will enjoy every min