could--could say something,
somehow, to Mrs. Gale that--that would make her understand?"

"Why, Cordelia Wilson, of course I couldn't," gasped Genevieve,
indignantly. "A pretty picture I'd make going to Mrs. Gale and saying:
'Madam, why don't you give your niece a new dress when you know she
wants one?'"

"N-no, I suppose you couldn't do that, of course," sighed the other.
"Very likely you couldn't do anything, anyway. It's only that I
thought--well, I knew you were going home with Elsie after school Monday
night to study; and I didn't know but you'd get a chance to say
something. But I suppose, after all, there won't be anything you could
say."

"No, I suppose there won't," echoed Genevieve, still plainly appalled
at the task Cordelia had set for her.

"Well, it's only that I was so sorry for Elsie," sighed Cordelia, as she
rose to go.

"Of course! I reckon we're all sorry for Elsie," sighed Genevieve in her
turn.

And she was sorry. All the rest of the morning she kept thinking how
very sorry she was; and when afternoon came, and when she saw Elsie's
lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears, as the others happily
discussed whether they would wear colored sashes or white belts with
their white dresses, Genevieve's heart quite overflowed with sympathy
for Elsie. And she wondered if, after all, it were possible to make
Elsie's aunt--understand. Determinedly, then, she declared to herself
that, regardless of consequences, she would try--if she had the
opportunity.

Genevieve's opportunity came very soon after she arrived at Elsie's home
Monday afternoon. Even Genevieve herself had to admit that she could not
have had a better one. But so frightened was she that she wished--for a
moment--that there were none. Then before her rose a vision of Elsie's
tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips--and with a quick-drawn breath
Genevieve rose and followed Mrs. Gale to the sewing-room.

"Come with me," Mrs. Gale had said to Genevieve--Genevieve had picked up
a scrap of brown silk from the floor. "That's a piece of the dress I'm
making for Elsie to wear to the wedding. The silly child has got a
notion she wants white, but you'll think this is pretty, I'm sure." And
it was then that Genevieve knew her opportunity had come.

In the sewing-room Mrs. Gale proudly spread the silk dress over a
chair-back.

"There! What do you think of that?" she demanded.

Genevieve's heart beat so loudly she thought Mrs. Gale must hear it.