hool when she and Marian were coming home together that she
confessed to having had something to do with bringing about this
pleasant state of things. "I went down to Mrs. Hunt's and told her
all about it," she said, "and we hatched up the scheme between us,
so our works and your faith brought about what we wished for. If you
had been really disobedient, and had intended to do wrong we could
not have been so eager to help you, but I think your punishment
exceeded the offense and Mrs. Hunt thought the same. Isn't she a
dear woman, Marian? I feel as if I had known her all my days, and as
if I could go right to her in time of trouble."

"That is the way every one feels," Marian told her. "I stopped there
this morning to take back the apron, and she said she knew Annie was
glad I had worn it. She talks that way about Annie, so I almost feel
as if I knew her and as if she knew me."

"Perhaps she does," returned Miss Dorothy quietly. "Now, when are
you going to send the letter to your father? Don't you think it is
most time you were getting it ready? And, by the way, I have not
shown you my camera. I left it in the city to be put in order and it
came this morning. Now, I was thinking it would be very nice to send
your father a little book of snap pictures of his small daughter. I
will take them, and can develop and print them myself. I have some
gray paper that we can cut into sheets to be folded the proper size
to mount the pictures upon, and it will make a very nice present,
don't you think so?"

"Oh, Miss Dorothy!" Marian's face showed her delight. "I think that
is the very loveliest idea that any one ever thought of. I think you
have an angelic mind for thinking of things."

Miss Dorothy laughed. "I am so glad you are pleased with the idea.
My plan is not to take the pictures all at once, but as I happen to
catch you in a characteristic position, or an artistic one. For
instance, one can be taken at school at your desk, or the
blackboard; another in the garden, another in the sitting-room with
your grandparents, another with Tippy and Dippy."

"More and more lovely," cried Marian. "Then he will feel almost as
if he were here seeing me every day, and will get acquainted with me
so much better in that way. I don't feel as if my father and I were
very well acquainted."

"You poor little pet, of course you don't, but once you begin
sending letters back and forth it will be quite different."

"Yes, I think so, too. Mi