"Well, they must be just perfect, then," said Polly, putting the blue
gown carefully over her head. "Mamsie, I just love this dress."

"Yes, it is pretty," said Mother Fisher, with an approving eye for the
dainty ruffles, "and you keep your clothes cleaner than you used to,
Polly; you're improving."

"I used to get them all mussed up just as soon as could be," mourned
Polly, her cheeks rosy at the remembrance. "Mamsie, how much trouble
I've made you." She stopped dressing, and sprang over to Mrs. Fisher.
Phronsie, trying to button on the waistband, and clinging to it, went
stumbling after.

"Take care," warned Mrs. Fisher, "don't muss it; it looks so nice now."

"There, there, Phronsie, I'll do that," said Polly, a trifle
impatiently, looking over her shoulder.

"Oh, I want to, Polly," said Phronsie, fumbling for the button. "Do let
me; I want to."

"No, I can do it myself," said Polly, trying to whirl off from the busy
little fingers.

"Polly," began Mother Fisher, who saw what Polly couldn't, Phronsie's
little face very red with her exertion, and the brown eyes filling with
tears.

"Well, I declare," cried Polly, at sound of her mother's tone; "so you
shall, Phronsie. Now I'll stand just as still as a mouse, and you shall