g did any good. The young storm had to have its
way, and the slim pink shoulders shook in convulsive sobs, while the
dismayed elder sat down beside the bed, with troubled eyes upon her,
and waited, praying quietly.

In the midst of it all Allison appeared at the door.

"What in thunder is the matter? I've yelled my head off, and nobody
answers. What is the matter with you, kid? It's time we started, and
you doing the baby act! I never thought you'd get hystericky."

Leslie lifted a wet and smeary face out of her pillow and addressed
her brother defiantly:

"I've good reason to cry!" she said. "Cloudy thinks I'm not decent to
go out in this dress, and she won't believe everybody dresses this
way; and I'm _not going_! I'm _never_ going _anywhere_ again; I'm
_disgraced_!" And down went her head in the pillow again with another
long, convulsive sob.

Her brother strode over to her, and lifted her up firmly but gently.

"There, kid, quit your crying and be sensible. Stand up and let's look
at you."

He stood her upon her feet; and she swayed there, quivering, half
ashamed, her hands to her tear-stained face, her pink shoulders
heaving and her soft, pink chest quivering with sobs, while he
surveyed her.

"Well, kid, I must say I agree with Cloudy," he said half reluctantly
at last. "The dress is a peach, of course, and you look like an angel
in it; but, if you could hear the rotten things the fellows say about
the way the girls dress, you wouldn't want to go that way; and I
don't want them to talk that way about my sister. Couldn't you stick
in a towel or an apron or something, and make a little more waist to
the thing? I'm sure you'd look just as pretty, and the fellows would
think you a whole lot nicer girl. I don't want you to get the nickname
of the Freshman Vamp. I couldn't stand for that."

Poor Leslie sank into a chair, and covered her face for another cry,
declaring it was no use, it would utterly spoil the dress to do
anything to it, and she couldn't go, and wouldn't go and wear it; but
at last Julia Cloud came to the rescue with needle and thread and soft
rose drapery made from a scarf of Leslie's that exactly matched the
dress; and presently she stood meek and sweet, and quite modest,
blooming prettily out of her pink, misty garments like an opening
apple-blossom in spite of her recent tears.

"But when are you coming back?" asked Julia Cloud in sudden dismay,
her troubles returning in full force as sh