Mary-'Gusta asked no more questions of that kind, but her conviction
that Heaven--Mrs. Hobbs' Heaven--was a good place for housekeepers and
grown-ups but a poor one for children was strengthened.

They entered the house by the kitchen door and ascended the back stairs
to Mary-'Gusta's room. The shades in all the rooms were drawn and the
house was dark and gloomy. The child would have asked the reason for
this, but at the first hint of a question Mrs. Hobbs bade her hush.

"You mustn't talk," she said.

"Why mustn't I?"

"Because 'tain't the right thing to do, that's why. Now hurry up and get
dressed."

Mary-'Gusta silently wriggled out of her everyday frock, was led to the
washstand and vigorously scrubbed. Then Mrs. Hobbs combed and braided
what she called her "pigtails" and tied a bow of black ribbon at the end
of each.

"There!" exclaimed the lady. "You're clean for once in your life,
anyhow. Now hurry up and put on them things on the bed."

The things were Mary-'Gusta's very best shoes and dress; also a pair of
new black stockings.

When the dressing was finished the housekeeper stood her in the middle
of the floor and walked about her on a final round of inspection.