ther when they do their shopping, instead of leaving it to Miss
Bat, who dresses me like an old woman. Merry knows what is pretty and
becoming: I don't," thought Molly, meditating in the bushel basket, with
her eyes on her snuff-colored gown and the dark purple bow at the end of
the long braid Muffet had been playing with.

Molly was beginning to see that even so small a matter as the choice of
colors made a difference in one's appearance, and to wonder why Merry
always took such pains to have a blue tie for the gray dress, a rosy one
for the brown, and gloves that matched her bonnet ribbons. Merry never
wore a locket outside her sack, a gay bow in her hair and soiled cuffs,
a smart hat and the braid worn off her skirts. She was exquisitely neat
and simple, yet always looked well-dressed and pretty; for her love of
beauty taught her what all girls should learn as soon as they begin
to care for appearances--that neatness and simplicity are their best
ornaments, that good habits are better than fine clothes, and the most
elegant manners are the kindest.

All these thoughts were dancing through Molly's head, and when she left
her cats, after a general romp in which even decorous Granny allowed her
family to play leap-frog over her respectable back, she had made up
her mind not to have yellow ribbons on her summer hat if she got a pink
muslin as she had planned, but to finish off Boo's last shirt before she
went shopping with Merry.

It rained that evening, and Mr. Bemis had a headache, so he threw
himself down upon the lounge after tea for a nap, with his silk
handkerchief spread over his face. He did get a nap, and when he waked
he lay for a time drowsily listening to the patter of the rain, and
another sound which was even more soothing. Putting back a corner of the
handkerchief to learn what it was, he saw Molly sitting by the fire with
Boo in her lap, rocking and humming as she warmed his little bare feet,
having learned to guard against croup by attending to the damp shoes
and socks before going to bed. Boo lay with his round face turned up to
hers, stroking her cheek while the sleepy blue eyes blinked lovingly at
her as she sang her lullaby with a motherly patience sweet to see. They
made a pretty little picture, and Mr. Bemis looked at it with pleasure,
having a leisure moment in which to discover, as all parents do sooner
or later, that his children were growing up.

"Molly is getting to be quite a woman, and ve