ey,'" she said. "'Nothing but your new
tailored suit and your velvet hat and your silk waist,' to say nothing
of--"

"But I'm tired of them all! I'd so love a change."

Blue Bonnet opened her closet door.

"Choose," she said generously. "Only leave me my muff, to-day. I perish
by the wayside in this climate. I'd give--oh, most anything, for a
streak of Texas sunshine!"

Almost unconsciously a sigh escaped her. There were days when a vision
of the Texas prairie obliterated every other sight.

"Oh, thank you, dear! You're so good about your things. I'll take your
black fur hat, if you don't mind--and the blue waist. I'm quite mad
about blue just now. I never used to think I could wear it."

Blue Bonnet got out the waist, and Annabel held it against her face,
trying the effect.

"I don't know about this 'Alice' shade. What do you think? Can I wear it
all right?"

"You look beautiful in anything to me, Annabel--yes, I think it is very
becoming. Will you walk with me to-day?"

"Surely; though I suppose Ruth will pout--but no matter! Reckon we had
better hurry a little."

Blue Bonnet always declared that there was something about Trinity
Church that put her in a pious mood. She felt it first when she came in
sight of the splendid edifice. She loved its majesty--- its vast
impressive central tower; the quaint cloisters; the rich Galilee porch
and the ivy-clad walls; and once inside she could never keep her eyes
from straying to the wonderful Tiffany stained glass memorial windows;
the famous frescoes, of which "Jesus and the Woman of Samaria" was her
favorite. She loved the service, too. Loved it because amid all the
grandeur it was simple and impressive, and she could have a part in it.

It was a pretty sight to see the girls from Miss North's school march in
to the church, and it spoke well for Miss North's training that they
were always dignified and attentive. They took an active part in the
service and sang for the very joy of singing. Blue Bonnet's strong,
sweet soprano often rang above her fellows, clear and true, and her
face reflected the glow that stirred her heart.

"That _was_ a wonderful sermon, Annabel," she said as they left the
church. "Dear me, how I do wish Mr. Blake could sit under the Bishop for
a while. I wonder if he ever heard him. I daresay he hasn't. He's what
Grandmother calls a 'dyed in the wool Presbyterian.'"

She sighed, regretful of Mr. Blake's lost opportunities.

"Cheer up! Yo