uffle a foot deep, then
an old-fashioned chemise the neck and sleeve work of which was elaborate
and perfectly wrought. On the breast was pinned a note that she hastily
opened.

"I was married in these," it read, "and I had intended to be buried in
them, but perhaps it would be more sensible for you to graduate and get
married in them yourself, if you like. Your mother."

"From my mother!" Wide-eyed, Elnora looked at the Bird Woman. "I never
in my life saw the like. Mother does things I think I never can forgive,
and when I feel hardest, she turns around and does something that makes
me think she just must love me a little bit, after all. Any of the girls
would give almost anything to graduate in hand-embroidered linen like
that. Money can't buy such things. And they came when I was thinking she
didn't care what became of me. Do you suppose she can be insane?"

"Yes," said the Bird Woman. "Wildly insane, if she does not love you and
care what becomes of you."

Elnora arose and held the petticoat to her. "Will you look at it?" she
cried. "Only imagine her not getting my dress ready, and then sending me
such a petticoat as this! Ellen would pay fifty dollars for it and
never blink. I suppose mother has had it all my life, and I never saw it
before."

"Go take your bath and put on those things," said the Bird Woman.
"Forget everything and be happy. She is not insane. She is embittered.
She did not understand how things would be. When she saw, she came at
once to provide you a dress. This is her way of saying she is sorry
she did not get the other. You notice she has not spent any money, so
perhaps she is quite honest in saying she has none."

"Oh, she is honest!" said Elnora. "She wouldn't care enough to tell an
untruth. She'd say just how things were, no matter what happened."

Soon Elnora was ready for her dress. She never had looked so well as
when she again headed the processional across the flower and palm decked
stage of the high school auditorium. As she sat there she could have
reached over and dropped a rose she carried into the seat she had
occupied that September morning when she entered the high school. She
spoke the few words she had to say in behalf of the class beautifully,
had the tiny wink ready for Billy, and the smile and nod of recognition
for Wesley and Margaret. When at last she looked into the eyes of a
white-faced woman next them, she slipped a hand to her side and raised
her skirt the fract