his feet.

"Gee," he exclaimed as the hair sprang into curls when the brush left
it, "your hair's just like gold!"

"And it's curly," she added proudly.

"Sure is. Wouldn't Phares look if he saw it! I told him your hair is
prettier than Mary Warner's and he said I was silly to talk about girls'
hair."

"I don't want him to see it this way," she said, "for he'd say it's a
sin to have curly, pretty hair, even if God made it grow that way! He's
awful queer! I wouldn't want him for my adopted brother."

"Guess he'd keep you hopping," laughed David.

"Guess I'd keep him hopping, too," retorted Phoebe, at which the boy
laughed.

"Now what do I do?" he asked when all the hair was untangled.

"Part it in the middle and make two plaits."

"Um-uh."

The boy's clumsy fingers fumbled long with the parting; several times
the braids twisted and had to be undone, but after a struggle he was
able to announce, "There now, you're fixed! Now you're Phoebe Metz, no
more prima donna!"

"Thanks, David, for helping me. I feel much better around the
head--guess curls would be a nuisance after all."

CHAPTER VII

"WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET"

WHEN Phoebe adopted Mother Bab she did so with the whole-heartedness and
finality characteristic of her blood.

Mother Bab--the name never ceased to thrill the erstwhile motherless
girl whose yearning for affection and understanding had been unsatisfied
by the matter-of-fact Aunt Maria.

At first Maria Metz did not seem too well pleased with the child's
persistent naming of Barbara Eby as Mother Bab; but gradually, as she
saw Phoebe's joy in the adoption, the woman acknowledged to herself that
another woman was capable of mothering where she had failed.

Phoebe spent many hours in the little house on the hill, learning from
Mother Bab many things that made indelible impressions upon her
sensitive child-heart, unraveling some of the tangled knots of her soul,
stirring anew hopes and aspirations of her being. But there remained one
knot to be untangled--she could not understand why the plain dress and
white cap existed, she could not reconcile the utter simplicity of dress
with the lavish beauty of the birds, flowers--all nature.

"It will come," Mother Bab assured her one day. "You are a little girl
now and cannot see into everything. But when you are older you will see
how beautiful it is to live simply and plainly."

"But is it necessary, Mother Bab?" the child cried o