ected pride and approval.

"Aunt Lucinda," Blue Bonnet called, "Sarah says she will come over
Saturday and help sew the markers on my clothes. Isn't that lovely?"

"It is very kind of Sarah, I am sure."

"And, Aunt Lucinda, don't you think it would be nice to have a little
tea, or luncheon or something, and let all the girls help?"

"It would be nice to have the girls, Blue Bonnet, but--"

Miss Clyde hesitated. She had seen samples of the We Are Sevens' sewing,
and visions of Blue Bonnet's underwear after it had braved the first
wash, rose before her eyes.

"But what?"

"Marking clothes is rather a particular piece of work, you know."

Blue Bonnet glanced about quickly to see if this reflection had given
offence. None was visible. A relieved expression was rather more in
evidence.

"I think _I_ could help, perhaps, Miss Clyde," Sarah said, determined
not to have her one accomplishment thrust aside so lightly.

"I am sure you could, Sarah, and thank you very much; your work is
always beautiful. Perhaps you would do some of the handkerchiefs."

The next two weeks seemed to take wings--they flew along so fast. The
grey days had come; bleak, raw days when clouds hung over the hills,
threatening snow and ice.

"Only five days now until Uncle Cliff comes," Blue Bonnet said one
morning, pausing in her sewing--she was making bureau scarfs for her
room at school, taking the greatest pride and interest in them.

"Five days! I can hardly wait. Grandmother, did you ever think what
Uncle Cliff's been to me? Why, he's been father, mother, brother,
sister! Many's the time on the ranch when I'd get lonesome he'd play tag
with me, or marbles, or cut paper dolls and make me swings--anything to
make me happy. Seems like I'm only just beginning to understand how much
I owe him; always before I've just kind of taken everything for granted.
Sometimes I can hardly wait until I'm grown up to make a nice home for
him--to take care of him, and do the things--the little things men like
to have done for them."

Miss Clyde turned and scrutinized Blue Bonnet's face closely.

What was this child saying? This woman-child, who only yesterday was
romping through the house, indulging in childish dreams--childish
sports.

"I'm beginning to feel grown up, sometimes, Grandmother. Going
on seventeen is a pretty good age, isn't it? It won't be long
now until I'm twenty-one, and then I suppose I'll have to take
up responsibilities--learn ho