her ripe lips were curved in a lovely dissatisfaction. Hence Dolly's remark.     

       “I wish I was going,” said the child.     

       Dolly's eyes flew open wide, in a very sublimity of astonishment.     

       “Wish you were going?” she echoed. “To the Bilberrys'?”      

       Mollie nodded.     

       “Yes, even there. I want to go somewhere. I think I should enjoy myself a little anywhere. I should like to see the people, and hear them talk, and find out what they do, and wear an evening dress.”      

       Dolly gazed at her in mingled pity and bewilderment.     

       “Mollie,” she said, “you are very innocent; and I always knew you were very innocent; but I did not know you were as innocent as this,—so utterly free from human guile that you could imagine pleasure in a Bilberry rejoicing. And I believe,” still regarding her with that questioning pity, “—I believe you really could. I must keep an eye on you, Mollie. You are too unsophisticated to be out of danger.”      

       It was characteristic of her good-natured sympathy for the girl that it should occur to her the next minute that perhaps it might please her to see herself donned even in such modest finery as the white merino. She understood her simple longings after unattainable glories so thoroughly, and she was so ready to amuse her to the best of her ability. So she suggested it.     

       “Put it on, Mollie,” she said, “and let us see how you would look in it. I should like to see you in full dress.”      

       The child rose with some faint stir of interest in her manner and went to the bed.     

       “It wouldn't be long enough for me if it wasn't for the train,” she said;       “but the train will make it long enough nearly, and I can pull it together at the waist.”      

       She put it on at the bedside, and then came forward to the toilet-table; and Dolly, catching sight of her in the glass as she advanced, turned round with a start.     

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