little ruffled nightgown she went to Aunt Olivia's room and thanked
her for the ruffles.

"They're beautiful," she murmured, in a small agony of shyness.
"I think it was very kind of you to ruffle me--I've always wanted
to be. Thank you very much." And then she had scurried away on
her bare feet to the safe retreat of her own room under the eaves.
Aunt Olivia, left behind, was unconsciously relieved at not having
to respond. She was glad the child had discovered the ruffles and
was pleased. It was a good sign.

"I'll mix up some pancakes in the morning," Aunt Olivia said,
complacently. "Pancakes may help along. Rebecca Mary is fond
of 'em."

The pinks and the fragrant lavender appeared to have established
a certain unspoken comradeship between the two "morners" of Thomas
Jefferson. Thereafter Rebecca Mary went about comforted, and Aunt
Olivia relieved. The little, white cat purred about the skirts of
one and the stubbed-out toes of the other in cheerful content.

"Well?" the minister's wife queried, in a moment of social intercourse
after church. She and Aunt Olivia walked down the aisle together.

"She's getting over it--or beginning to," nodded Aunt Olivia.
"That other rooster didn't work, but I think the little cat is
going to. She hugs it."

"Good! But she still mourns Thomas Jef--"