wn.

"Sure, they will," she said above the whir of the machine. "But you
mustn't make friends of everyone you meet, Mary Rose. A city isn't
like the country. I suppose you knew everyone in Mifflin?"

"Everyone," with an emphatic shake of her head. "Animals and
vegetables as well as people. And everyone knew me."

"Well, it won't be that way in Waloo," Mrs. Donovan explained. "No one
knows you an' you don't know anyone. You mustn't go makin' up to
strangers. A little girl can't tell who's good an' who's bad."

"She can if she has the right kind of an eye," Mary Rose told her
eagerly. "Daddy said so over and over again. He said the good Lord
never made bad people because it would be a waste of time and dust when
he could just as well make them good. And if you had the right kind of
an eye you could see that there was good in every single person. Daddy
said I had the right kind. Mine's blue but it isn't in the color, for
his eyes were brown and they were right, too. It's something," she
hesitated as she tried to explain what was so very dear and simple to
her. "It's something to do with the inside and your heart. I
shouldn't wonder, Aunt Kate, if you had the right kind. Isn't it
easier for you to see that people are kind and good than it is to see
them bad?"

It wasn't for Aunt Kate. A two-years' residence in the basement of the
Washington had about convinced her that all human nature was sour but
she disliked to tell Mary Rose so when Mary Rose so plainly expected
her to agree that the world was inhabited by a superior sort of angel.
She snipped her threads and drew the plaid skirt from under the needle.

Mary Rose fairly squealed with delight when she was in the white middy
blouse and the skirt flapped about her ankles in such a very grown-up
manner. Mary Rose's yellow hair had always been bobbed but no one had
seen that it was trimmed before she left Mifflin and it hung in rather
straight lanky locks about her elfish face. Some of the locks were
long enough to be drawn under one of Ella's discarded red hair ribbons
and Aunt Kate pinned back the others. The result was a very different
Mary Rose from the one who had jumped out of the taxicab a few hours
ago. She climbed on a chair and looked at her reflection in the mirror
of her aunt's bureau.

"I do think it's too lovely!" she cried rapturously. "You can't ever
know, Aunt Kate, how splendid it is to wear skirts. Sometimes," she
whispered