The girls stopped with wondering faces.

"It's your clothes," explained Mrs. Sinton. "You look just beautiful to
me. You look exactly as I should have wanted to see my girls. They both
died of diphtheria when they were little, but they had yellow hair, dark
eyes and pink cheeks, and everybody thought they were lovely. If they
had lived, they'd been near your age now, and I'd want them to look like
you."

There was sympathy on every girl face.

"Why thank you!" said one of them. "We are very sorry for you."

"Of course you are," said Margaret. "Everybody always has been. And
because I can't ever have the joy of a mother in thinking for my girls
and buying pretty things for them, there is nothing left for me, but to
do what I can for some one who has no mother to care for her. I know a
girl, who would be just as pretty as any of you, if she had the clothes,
but her mother does not think about her, so I mother her some myself."

"She must be a lucky girl," said another.

"Oh, she 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