on that point, Elnora hurried to the bed to find only her last summer's
white dress, freshly washed and ironed. For an instant she stared at it,
then she picked up the garment, looked at the bed beneath it, and her
gaze slowly swept the room.

It was unfamiliar. Perhaps this was the third time she had been in it
since she was a very small child. Her eyes ranged over the beautiful
walnut dresser, the tall bureau, the big chest, inside which she never
had seen, and the row of masculine attire hanging above it. Somewhere a
dainty lawn or mull dress simply must be hanging: but it was not. Elnora
dropped on the chest because she felt too weak to stand. In less than
two hours she must be in the church, at Onabasha. She could not wear a
last year's washed dress. She had nothing else. She leaned against the
wall and her father's overcoat brushed her face. She caught the folds
and clung to it with all her might.

"Oh father! Father!" she moaned. "I need you! I don't believe you would
have done this!" At last she opened the door.

"I can't find my dress," she said.

"Well, as it's the only one there I shouldn't think it would be much
trouble."

"You mean for me to wear an old washed dress to-night?"

"It's a good dress. There isn't a hole in it! There's no reason on earth
why you shouldn't wear it."

"Except that I will not," said Elnora. "Didn't you provide any dress for
Commencement, either?"

"If you soil that to-night, I've plenty of time to wash it again."

Wesley's voice called from the gate.

"In a minute," answered Elnora.

She ran upstairs and in an incredibly short time came down wearing one
of her gingham school dresses. Her face cold and hard, she passed her
mother and went into the night. Half an hour later Margaret and Billy
stopped for Mrs. Comstock with the carriage. She had determined fully
that she would not go before they called. With the sound of their voices
a sort of horror of being left seized her, so she put on her hat, locked
the door and went out to them.

"How did Elnora look?" inquired Margaret anxiously.

"Like she always does," answered Mrs. Comstock curtly.

"I do hope her dresses are as pretty as the others," said Margaret.
"None of them will have prettier faces or nicer ways."

Wesley was waiting before the big church to take care of the team. As
they stood watching the people enter the building, Mrs. Comstock felt
herself growing ill. When they went inside among the lights, saw