to that blue dress of mine you like so much, Trudy. I'm going to let
Priscilla wear my coral beads."

"The pink ones?" asked Priscilla.

"The pink ones. They will be just a match for your pink dress."

"I don't feel like dressing up," said Gertrude.

Elliott felt like clapping her hands. She had roused Trudy to speech.

"Then wear something of your own," she said stanchly. "It doesn't
matter what we wear, so long as we look nice."

Mercurial Priscilla was already feeling the new note in the air.
Elliott wouldn't talk so, would she, if Sidney really were not going
to get well? And yet there was Gertrude, who didn't seem to feel
cheered up a bit. Pris's little heart was torn.

Elliott tried one last argument. "I think Mother Jess would like to
have us do it for Father Bob and the boys' sake--to help keep up their
courage."

Priscilla bounced out of the rocker. "Will it help keep up their
courage for us to wear our pretty clothes?"

"I had a notion it might."

"Let's do it, Trudy. I--I think I feel better already."

Gertrude sat up on the horsehair sofa. "Maybe Mother would like us
to."

"I'm sure she'd like us to keep on hoping," said Elliott earnestly.
"And it doesn't matter what we do, so long as we do something to show
that's the way we've made up our minds to feel. If you can think of
any better way to show it than by dressing up, Trudy--"

"No," said Gertrude. "But I think I'll wear my own clothes to-day,
Elliott. Thank you, just the same. Some day, if Sid--I mean some day
I'll love to try on your blue dress, if you will let me."

Three girls, as pretty and chic and trim as nature and the contents of
their closets could make them, sat down to supper that night. It was
not a jolly meal, but the girls set the pace, and every one did his
best to be cheerful and brave.

Half-way through supper Stannard laid down his fork to ask a question.
"What's happened to your hair, Trudy?"

"Elliott did it for me. Do you like it?"

Stannard nodded. "Good work!"

Father Bob, his attention aroused, inspected the three with new
interest in his sober eyes. He said nothing then, but after supper his
hand fell on Elliott's shoulder approvingly.

"Well done, little girl! That's the right way. Face the music with
your chin up."

Elliott felt exactly as though some one had stiffened her spine. The
least little doubt had been creeping into her mind lest what she had
done had been heartless. Father Bob's words put tha