She carried her pink dress into the kitchen, with wary eyes upon the windows, and hung it up as her mother had directed.

On her return she paused a moment at the foot of the stairs in the hall, between the dining-room and sitting-room.

Then, obeying an impulse, she ran into the sitting-room and threw her soft little arms around her mother's neck.
"I'm real sorry I wore that dress without asking you, mother," she said.

"I won't again, honest." "Well, I hope you will remember," replied her mother.

"If you wear the best you have common you will never have anything." Her tone was chiding, but the look on her face was infinitely caressing.