he loves me," said Margaret, "and I love her. I want her to look
just like you do. Please tell me about your clothes. Are these the
dresses and hats you wear to school? What kind of goods are they, and
where do you buy them?"

The girls began to laugh and cluster around Margaret. Wesley strode down
the store with his head high through pride in her, but his heart
was sore over the memory of two little faces under Brushwood sod. He
inquired his way to the shoe department.

"Why, every one of us have on gingham or linen dresses," they said, "and
they are our school clothes."

For a few moments there was a babel of laughing voices explaining to the
delighted Margaret that school dresses should be bright and pretty, but
simple and plain, and until cold weather they should wash.

"I'll tell you," said Ellen Brownlee, "my father owns this store, I know
all the clerks. I'll take you to Miss Hartley. You tell her just how
much you want to spend, and what you want to buy, and she will know how
to get the most for your money. I've heard papa say she was the best
clerk in the store for people who didn't know precisely what they
wanted."

"That's the very thing," agreed Margaret. "But before you go, tell me
about your hair. Elnora's hair is bright and wavy, but yours is silky as
hackled flax. How do you do it?"

"Elnora?" asked four girls in concert.

"Yes, Elnora is the name of the girl I want these things for."

"Did she come to the high school to-day?" questioned one of them.

"Was she in your classes?" demanded Margaret without reply.

Four girls stood silent and thought fast. Had there been a strange girl
among them, and had she been overlooked and passed by with indifference,
because she was so very shabby? If she had appeared as much better than
they, as she had looked worse, would her reception have been the same?

"There was a strange girl from the country in the Freshman class
to-day," said Ellen Brownlee, "and her name was Elnora."

"That was the girl," said Margaret.

"Are her people so very poor?" questioned Ellen.

"No, not poor at all, come to think of it," answered Margaret. "It's a
peculiar case. Mrs. Comstock had a great trouble and she let it change
her whole life and make a different woman of her. She used to be lovely;
now she is forever saving and scared to death for fear they will go
to the poorhouse; but there is a big farm, covered with lots of good
timber. The taxes are high for women who ca