arrayed herself in some of her new clothes; and her heart beat fast
and her spirits rose, as she dreamed beautiful dreams of her coming
life.

All this had happened the day before, and now Huldah stood in the
garden in her blue print frock and holland apron, her hair well
brushed and shining, her face full of sober gladness. On the line
hung the old brown frock, which had been washed and spread out to
dry.

"Life can be as beautiful as any dream, even more beautiful. It all
depends upon ourselves, and what we make of it for each other."
As she stood looking away from the garden to the quiet sunny stretch
of country beyond, the words echoed and re-echoed through her brain,
"What we make of it for each other."

"Why, of course," she thought to herself, "the world is just the
same, the sun and the breeze, the earth and the sky, just the same as
they were when I was living with Uncle Tom and Aunt Emma. 'Tis Miss
Rose and Mrs. Perry who have made it all seem so beautiful.
Just fancy two people making such a difference. I wish, oh, I wish I
could make something seem beautiful to somebody, just as they have
for me."

The busy hens had ceased their scratching, to gaze wonderingly at
the little blue figure standing so still in the path near them.
Dick sat in front of her, and stared up at her with perplexed, uneasy
eyes. It was unlike his little mistress to be dressed as she was,
and to be so quiet. A little whimper of distress broke from him, he
could bear the silence no longer. The sound roused Huldah from her