wed to try and
get. She could not have told why she left out that part, but already a
vague thought had come to her--one that she was ashamed of, even though it
was so vague, and it had to do with forget-me-nots.

All the time she had been helping about the breakfast, and all the time
after, when she and her stepmother were alone again, she kept saying to
herself, "Shall I give her the money, shall I keep it?" and her heart
would thrill, and then sink, and inside her she kept saying, "There is no
harm in it?--It is all the same in the end." And then, almost before
she knew what she was doing, she had taken the easy, crooked, downhill
path, with its rocks and thorns so cleverly hidden.

"Mona, haven't you got any print frocks for mornings, and nice aprons?"

Mona's thoughts came back suddenly from "Shall I? Shall I not?" and the
eyes with which she looked at her mother were half shamed, half
frightened. "Any--any what?" she stuttered.

"Nice morning aprons and washing frocks? I don't like to see shabby,
soiled ones, even for only doing work in."

"I hadn't thought about it," said Mona, with more interest. "What else
can one wear? I nearly put on my best one, but I thought I hadn't
better."

"Oh, no, not your best."

"Well, what else is there to wear? Do you always have a print one like
you've got on now?"

"Yes, and big aprons, and sleeves. Then one can tell when they are
dirty."

"Oh, I thought you put on that 'cause you were wearing out what you'd got
left over. You were in service, weren't you, before you married father?"

"Yes."

"I haven't got any print dresses. I haven't even got a white one.
I've two aprons like this," holding out a fanciful thing trimmed with
lace. "That's all, and I never saw any sleeves; I don't know what they
are like."

"I'll have to get you some as soon as father has his next big haul.
You'd like to wear nice clean prints, if you'd got them, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes!" eagerly. But after a moment she added: "I do want a summer
hat, though, and I don't s'pose I could have both?" Her eyes sought her
mother's face anxiously. Lucy looked grave and a little troubled.
"Wasn't that your summer hat that you had on yesterday? It was a very
pretty one. I'm so fond of wreaths of daisies and grasses, aren't you?"

"Yes--I was--I'm tired of them now. I wore that hat a lot last summer."

"Did you? Well, you kept it very nicely. I thought it was a new one, it
looked so