n't lend her anything because I'm not
quite as tall as she is, and my clothes would be too short. What is she
goin' to do?"

"Ah, that is my secret, little daughter," answered Mrs. Sherman, with a
smile. "What do you suppose I spent that hot morning in town for, the
day after she came, and why, do you think, have I driven over so many
times to see Miss Dean? I have made at least six trips there."

"Was it to get some clothes made for Elizabeth?" asked Lloyd. A little
expression of doubt showed in the anxious pucker of her forehead. "But,
mothah, she is awfully proud if she is poah. Aren't you afraid of
hurtin' her feelin's?"

"There are a great many ways of giving gifts, little daughter. If I
provided her with clothes in a way to make her feel that I thought hers
were too mean to be worn in my house, and that I was ashamed to have a
guest of mine present such an appearance, that would naturally hurt her
pride; but I have thought of a way that I am sure will please her. If
you will call her up-stairs in a few minutes, I will show you. Where is
she now?"

"Readin' on the stair landin'. At least she was when I came up. She was
in the window-seat."

"Then wait until I take something into her room. I'll tell you when I am
ready, and you may call her up."

Lloyd hung over the banister in the upper hall until she heard a
whispered "Ready;" then she called: "Come up heah, Elizabeth, mothah
wants us a minute in yo' room."

Mrs. Sherman was sitting by an open window with some sewing in her lap,
when Lloyd and Betty skipped into the white and gold room. Betty had a
book in her hand with her finger between the closed pages, to keep the
place.

[Illustration: "BETTY BEGAN THE STORY."]

"Elizabeth," said Mrs. Sherman, "do you remember the story of the
enchanted necklace that was in a book of fairy tales I sent you once?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Betty. "That is one of my favourite stories. I have
read it twenty times, I am sure, and told it to Davy until he almost
knows it by heart."

"I wish you would tell it to Lloyd, please. She has never heard it, and
I want to illustrate it for her after awhile."

The little girl willingly dropped down into a big chair full of
cushions, and with her finger still marking the place in the book, Betty
began the story:

"Once upon a time, near a castle in a lonely wood, there lived an orphan
maiden named Olga. She would have been all alone in the world had it not
been for an old woman who