ith a
metallic click of the latch, and a visitor hurried along the little
gravelled walk to the front porch.

"It is that meddlesome Carrie Wade," Mrs. Wartrace looked into the
kitchen to say. "She's got on a new muslin, and has come over to show
it, even as early as this."

"I'm not going to stand at the door and knock like a stranger," the
visitor cried out, as she entered the little front hallway and rustled
back to the kitchen. "Hello, Dix; Martha Sims and me are invited to
spend the day over at Treadwell's. You know the new lumber-camp is
there, and there's some dandy fellows working at it. They are going to
give a dance, an' told us to send Ned Jones over with his fiddle. Oh, we
are going to have a rattling time. We agreed to get up early. It seems
funny, don't it? It's been many a day since I saw the sun rise."

The speaker was a tall blonde about Dixie's age. She was thin, inclined
to paleness, and had a nervous look.

Dixie was drying her hands on a dishcloth, and she turned upon the
visitor, surveying her carefully from her rather worn shoes to the newer
dress and gaudily flowered hat with its tinsel ornaments and flowing
pink ribbons. She knew full well that her neighbor had come for the sole
purpose of showing her finery, and was secretly gloating over her
misfortune in having to remain behind, and yet she allowed this
knowledge in no way to affect her demeanor.

"You'll have a glorious time," Dixie said. "It's going to be a fine day
for a picnic and dance."

"How do you like my dress?" Miss Wade asked, turning round for the
inspection.

"It's very pretty, and pink suits you," Dixie answered, touching one of
the folds of the skirt.

"It's entirely too long in front," Mrs. Hart said, as she bent forward
and squinted sidewise with quite a visible sneer. "You'd look powerful
funny walking along kicking up the skirt behind. With a veil on nobody
could tell whether you was going or coming. Take my word for it--that
stuff'll fade, even in the sun. You won't get more than one or two
wearings out of it."

"Oh, do you think so?" The blond face fell. "I was a little afraid of
that myself, and maybe you are right about the fit behind, too."

"Mother doesn't know what she's talking about," Dixie said, with a
reproachful glance at her parent, who frowningly hovered on the verge of
another criticism. "It is the way you've put the flounce on, Carrie,
that makes it look that way in front. Wait, let me pin it up