of pictures and flowers, and quick to detect everything beautiful both
in art and nature, she knew that the little face she sometimes saw in
Mrs. Crawford's old-fashioned mirror was pretty, and after the day when
Dick St. Claire told her that her hair was 'awful handsome,' she had
felt a pride in it and in herself, which all Mrs. Crawford's
asseverations that 'Handsome is that handsome does' could not destroy.
Maude Tracy's hair was black and straight, and here she felt she had the
advantage over her.

'I do hope we shall see her,' she said to Harold, as she danced along,
swaying her bonnet and shaking her hair. 'Do you think we shall?'

Harold thought it doubtful, and, even if they did, it was not likely she
would speak to them, he said.

'Why not?' Jerry asked, and he replied:

'Oh, I suppose they feel big because they are rich and we are poor.'

'But why ain't I rich, too? Why don't I live at the park like Maude, and
wear low-necked aprons instead of this old high one?' Jerry asked; but
Harold could not tell, and only said:

'Would you rather live at the park than with me?'

'No,' Jerry answered, promptly, stopping short and digging her heel into
the soft loam of the path. 'I would not stay anywhere without you; and
when I live at the park you will live there, too, and have codfish and
tatoe every day.'

Strangely enough this was Harold's favorite dish, and, as it was not his
grandmother's, his taste was not gratified in that respect as often as
he would have liked, hence Jerry's promise of the luxury.

Just here, at a sudden turn in the path, they came upon Jack and Maude
Tracy playing on a bench under a tree, while the nurse was at a distance
either reading or asleep. Harold would have passed them at once, as he
knew his grandmother was in a hurry for the cherries, but Jerry had no
such intention.

Stopping short in front of Maude, she inspected her carefully, from her
white dress and bright plaid sash to the string of amber beads around
her neck; while, side by side with this picture, she saw herself in her
dark calico frock and high-necked apron, with her sun-bonnet and tin
pail on her arm. Jerry did not like the contrast, and a lump began to
swell in her throat. Then, as a happy thought struck her, she said, with
something like exultation in her tone:

'My hair curls and yours don't.'

'No,' Maude answered, slowly--'no it don't curl, but it's black, and
yours is yaller.'

This was a set back to