"Wait and see," replied Grandmother, and Mary Jane noticed that her
eyes twinkled. "She needn't have worried, I have plenty." And she
undid the bundle.

"Why! Why--how funny!" exclaimed Mary Jane when she saw what the
bundle contained. "That isn't anything! Why did Mother send those?
They're just scraps."

"Not scraps, dear," said Grandmother, and, much to Mary Jane's
surprise, she seemed very pleased, "pieces. They're pieces for a
quilt. Your mother always was crazy about my quilts."

"But those aren't quilts," insisted Mary Jane. "Those are just rolls
out of the scrap bag--I've seen them there. That's a piece of my
rompers," she added, pointing to a roll of blue, "and that's my best
pink gingham, and that's Alice's new school dress."

"So much the better," laughed Grandmother. "When you know what things
are from, your quilt is more interesting. Let's put these on the bed
while you come with me to the linen room and see what a quilt is."

They went down the hall to a queer little room that had shelves from
the floor to the ceiling and on every shelf was bedding of some sort.
Grandmother took down a quilt from the middle shelf and spread it out
on the floor. "There, Mary Jane," she said, "look at that! There's a
piece of your mother's first short dress and a piece of her mother's
graduating dress--that pink sprigged scrap; and that's your Uncle Tom's
shirt waist; and--well, don't you see? There they are; all the
'scraps' as you call them cut into pieces and made into a quilt. I've
always promised that your mother should have this some day. I think