shady place was aunt Jane to Rebecca! Aunt Jane with
her quiet voice, her understanding eyes, her ready excuses, in these
first difficult weeks, when the impulsive little stranger was trying to
settle down into the "brick house ways." She did learn them, in part,
and by degrees, and the constant fitting of herself to these new and
difficult standards of conduct seemed to make her older than ever for
her years.

The child took her sewing and sat beside aunt Jane in the kitchen while
aunt Miranda had the post of observation at the sitting-room window.
Sometimes they would work on the side porch where the clematis and
woodbine shaded them from the hot sun. To Rebecca the lengths of brown
gingham were interminable. She made hard work of sewing, broke the
thread, dropped her thimble into the syringa bushes, pricked her
finger, wiped the perspiration from her forehead, could not match the
checks, puckered the seams. She polished her needles to nothing,
pushing them in and out of the emery strawberry, but they always
squeaked. Still aunt Jane's patience held good, and some small measure
of skill was creeping into Rebecca's fingers, fingers that held pencil,
paint brush, and pen so cleverly and were so clumsy with the dainty
little needle.

When the first brown gingham frock was completed, the child seized what
she thought an opportune moment and asked her aunt Miranda if she might
have another color for the next one.

"I bought a whole piece of the brown," said Miranda laconically.
"That'll give you two more dresses, with plenty for new sleeves, and to
patch and let down with, an' be more economical."

"I know. But Mr. Watson says he'll take back part of it, and let us
have pink and blue for the same price."

"Did you ask him?"

"Yes'm."

"It was none o' your business."

"I was helping Emma Jane choose aprons, and didn't think you'd mind
which color I had. Pink keeps clean just as nice as brown, and Mr.
Watson says it'll boil without fading."

"Mr. Watson 's a splendid judge of washing, I guess. I don't approve of
children being rigged out in fancy colors, but I'll see what your aunt
Jane thinks."

"I think it would be all right to let Rebecca have one pink and one
blue gingham," said Jane. "A child gets tired of sewing on one color.
It's only natural she should long for a change; besides she'd look like
a charity child always wearing the same brown with a white apron. And
it's dreadful unbecoming to her!"

"'H