Bessie Bell stood still with her little hands--they were beginning
to be round pink little hands again, now--clasped in front of her
and wondered.

``See, Mama! Look, Mama!'' cried the little girl.

``Why does she say: Mama?'' asked Bessie Bell, because she just
wondered, and wondered--and she did not know.

``Because it is her Mama,'' said a child who had just brought two
more rocks to put on the chimney.

``Oh,'' said Bessie Bell.

That lady who was the little girl's Mama looked much as all the
ladies looked.

``Are all Ladies Mamas?'' asked Bessie Bell.

She hoped the child who had brought the two rocks would not laugh,
for Bessie Bell knew she would cry if she did.

The little girl did not laugh at all. She was trying so carefully
to put the last rock on top of the stone chimney, she said: ``No,
Bessie Bell: some are Mamas, and some are only just Ladies.''

There. There it was again: Only-Just-Ladies.

Bessie Bell wondered how to tell which were Mamas, and which were