It all depends upon ourselves, and what we make of it for each other." As she stood looking away from the garden to the quiet sunny stretch of country beyond, the words echoed and re-echoed through her brain, "What we make of it for each other." "Why, of course," she thought to herself, "the world is just the same, the sun and the breeze, the earth and the sky, just the same as they were when I was living with Uncle Tom and Aunt Emma.

'Tis Miss Rose and Mrs.Perry who have made it all seem so beautiful.
Just fancy two people making such a difference.

I wish, oh, I wish I could make something seem beautiful to somebody, just as they have for me." The busy hens had ceased their scratching, to gaze wonderingly at the little blue figure standing so still in the path near them.
Dick sat in front of her, and stared up at her with perplexed, uneasy eyes.

It was unlike his little mistress to be dressed as she was, and to be so quiet.

A little whimper of distress broke from him, he could bear the silence no longer.