tion of herself in the
polished pane, and saw that her skirt hung badly: it dipped too much
behind. She stopped to gauge the length, that she might alter it when
she went in, and then she noticed the pretty light summer things
displayed in the window, and ached to possess some. She was miserably
conscious of her old ill-cut skirt, more especially of the invisible
dirt on it, and she did so yearn for something new and sweet and
clean. Her mother had a bill at that shop--should she--should she just
go in and ask about prices? No, she could not in that horrid old
frock; the shopman would not respect her. She had intended to go down
to the sands and sit by the sea, and wait for things to come to her,
by which she meant ideas; but the discomfort of mind set up by that
glimpse of her uncouth clothes, and the horrible sense of their want
of freshness, gained upon her, and drove her in hurriedly. Beth would
have expressed the dainty refinement of her mind in her dress had she
had the means; but it is difficult to be dainty on nothing a year.

The rest of the day she spent in her room sewing. She found that one
of Aunt Victoria's summer silks would fit her with very little
alteration, and set to work to make a Sunday frock of it. As she
worked she thought of the dear old lady, and of the hours they had sat
there together sewing, and of their teas and talks. She would not have
known how to alter that dress but for Aunt Victoria; it made her both
sad and glad to remember how much she owed her.

Later in the day, after dinner, when the sun had set and the darkness
was beginning to gather, Beth became aware of a curious sensation. It
was as if she were expecting something delightful to happen, and yet,
at the same time, was all aching with anxiety. Then suddenly she
remembered her dream. The old pear-tree was a pyramid of blossom.
Should she go and see the white foam-flowers by moonlight? The moon
had risen.

She stole out into the garden, anxious above everything to go alone.
Her heart throbbed curiously; what did she expect? The young moon hung
in an indigo sky, and there were some white stars. The air was fresh
and fragrant as it had been in her dream, but there was less light.
She had to peer into the shade beneath the pear-tree to see--to see
what? If there were any one there? Of course there was no one there!
How could there be? She did not trust herself closer, however, until
she was quite sure that there was nothing to en