complimenting of your looks and clothes that I'm sorter set up with
pride over you."

"Good morning, Mrs. Pratt," exclaimed the singer lady, as she
appeared in the doorway with the resuscitated Martin Luther at her
side. "The darling babies! You are not going, are you?" The widow
and Miss Wingate had developed a decided attraction for each other,
and their blossoming friendship delighted Mother Mayberry most
obviously.

"I wish I didn't have to," answered Mrs. Pratt, beaming with smiles,
which little Bettie echoed as she coquetted around her mother's
skirts with Miss Wingate, "but it's most dinner-pot time, and I've
got mouths to feed when the horn blows."

"Elinory, child, run get that pink, long-tailed waist of your'n to
let Bettie make one by, please," said Mother Mayberry, with total
unconsciousness of that very strong feminine predilection for
exclusiveness of design in wearing apparel. The garment in question
was a very lovely, simply-cut linen affair that bore a distinguished
foreign trade-mark. "I know you feel complimented by her wanting to
make one for herself by it, and maybe Clara May and Pattie, too.
They ain't no worldly feeling as good as having your clothes
admired, is they?"

"Indeed there isn't," answered Miss Wingate cordially, and if there
was chagrin in her heart at the thought of seeing Providence in
uniform with the precious pink blouse, her smile belied it. She
immediately ascended to her room, and returned quickly with the
treasure in her hand. "Let me come and see you fit them," she