"Yes, I did. I couldn't help it. I thought if the dear child never wore them, it would be some comfort to know they were in the house."

"That one needs a broad blue sash," said Grandmother Stark.

Grandmother Wheeler laughed. She took her impecuniosity easily. "I had to use what I had," said she."I will get a blue sash for that one," said Grandmother Stark, "and a pink sash for that, and a flowered one for that."
"Of course they will make all the difference," said Grandmother Wheeler. "Those beautiful sashes will really make the dresses."
"I will get them," said Grandmother Stark, with decision. "I will go right down to Mann Brothers' store now and get them."
"Then I will make the bows, and sew them on," replied Grandmother Wheeler, happily.
It thus happened that little Amelia Wheeler was possessed of three beautiful dresses, although she did not know it.
For a long time neither of the two conspiring grandmothers dared divulge the secret. Mrs. Diantha was a very determined woman, and even her own mother stood somewhat in awe of her. Therefore, little Amelia went to school during the spring term soberly clad as ever, and even on the festive last day wore nothing better than a new blue gingham, made too long, to allow for shrinkage, and new blue hair-ribbons. The two grandmothers almost wept in secret conclave over the lovely frocks which were not worn.
"I respect Diantha," said Grandmother Wheeler. "You know that. She is one woman in a thousand, but I do hate to have that poor child go to school to-day with so many to look at her, and she dressed so unlike all the other little girls."
"Diantha has got so much sense, it makes her blind and deaf," declared Grandmother Stark. "I call it a shame, if she is my daughter."
"Then you don't venture--"
Grandmother Stark reddened. She did not like to own to awe of her daughter. "I VENTURE, if that is all," said she, tartly. "You don't suppose I am afraid of Diantha?--but she would not let Amelia wear one of the dresses, anyway, and I don't want the child made any unhappier than she is."
"Well, I will admit," replied Grandmother Wheeler, "if poor Amelia knew she had these beautiful dresses and could not wear them she might feel worse about wearing that homely gingham."
"Gingham!" fairly snorted Grandmother Stark. "I cannot see why Diantha thinks so much of gingham. It shrinks, anyway."
Poor little Amelia did undoubtedly suffer on that last day, when she sat among the others gaily clad, and looked down at her own common little skirts. She was very glad, however, that she had not been chosen to do any of the special things which would have necessitated her appearance upon the little flower-decorated platform. She did not 

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