tag-frock," she thought. But she was a restless maid. Between hopping
and dancing she glanced up at the sky and exclaimed:

"I guess it'll snow to-night. If it does, come over to my house
to-morrow and we'll get out the sled. We can take turns bein' horse, you
know."

But Irene shook her head.

"I'd like to," she replied, "but mamma won't let me. I haven't a dress
that's fit."

Lou's face gleamed with surprise.

"O, my!" she said, "can't you ever take a hill-ride, or build a
snow-man, or--" but Irene looked so sober that Lou's sympathies awoke.
"Never mind," she added, "you'll come up to your grandpa's again in the
summer; then you'll wear _do-up_ clothes, and we'll have lots of fun."

"The _do-up_ clothes are the worst," replied Irene sadly. "Mamma don't
want _them_ soiled."

Lou looked down at her plaid frock; she thought of the plentiful
ginghams at home. Suddenly she turned and rushed headlong back to mamma.

"O my!" she began, "Irene Clarke can't have no fun! She ain't got no
slide-dresses, she can't soil her _do-up_ clothes, and--O my!
mamma--it's all them ruffles and puffs! I wouldn't wear 'em for the
world! No, I just wouldn't!"