e could have
bought them, but you see Reda didn't know," she finished loyally.

"Course not," chimed in Madaline. "So long as she drained the rainbow
dry of colors for herself, she didn't care what happened to anyone
else. Aunt Audrey, you just ought to see her room at the studio. It
looks like a leaky paint shop."

"Yes, Reda loves colors herself," agreed Mary, "but I think one reason
why she thought I ought always wear white was for Loved One. But I am
sure _she_ would dress me in flower colors if she were here," said
Mary, gently, smoothing the soft pink voile she now wore so becomingly.

"All aboard!" cried Cleo, climbing into her place on the seat beside
Tom. Since she was too young to drive a car, she did the next best
thing--took a seat beside the driver. No wonder Mary was a changed
child, to see her as she sat between Grace and Madaline, her cheeks as
pretty and pink as the new dress; her heavy braids, though braided
still, unbound half way with the ends floating around in curls, the
delight, if not the envy, of her companions. Surely Mary was already a
much changed girl. As Grace had threatened, she had been initiated
into the Girl Scout secrets to the extent of taking the "good cheer and
helpful" pledge, and that this had furnished the stray child with a
practical motto, was very evident in the almost complete effacement of
her former wistful, dejected and often gloomy moods. Altogether it was
a delightful achievement, due principally to the subtle and gentle
influence of the sincere little Girl Scouts.

Over the hill now to Second Mountain seemed almost too short a run,
save that to-day when "Orchidia," the house of orchids, had been looked
after, there was to be the visit to Professor Benson, the long
wished-for meeting of Maid Mary and her "Grandie."

Everything seemed as usual at the studio. The flowers were blossoming
riotously, and the place was heavy with the glory of the tropics
confined in a mere glassy room of this temperate zone.

"It must be wonderful in the land where these come from, Mary-love,"
said Cleo, as she bent over a magnificent gray lavender bloom, melting
into liquid purple, and shading again into misty pinks, like tints from
a spring sunrise over the ocean--a sunrise that steals the gray mists
and snatches up the pearly foam, to paint its unnamed colors on an
expectant sky. "Oh, it must be too wonderful to describe," said Cleo,
enthused to rapture.

"It is, indeed,"