"It--it's very pretty, isn't it?" she stammered, wetting her dry lips
and wondering what good it did to say that.

"Pretty? Of course it is. It's silk, and a fine piece--I thought when I
got it how splendidly it would make over. I'm sure any girl ought to be
proud to wear it!"

Genevieve caught her breath sharply. "Proud"--Mrs. Gale had said
"proud"; and Cordelia had said, that morning, that Mrs. Gale herself was
very proud, and that she would be very angry if she knew that Genevieve
had offered Elsie a dress to wear. In a flash of inspiration, then, came
a wild plan to Genevieve's mind. If only she had the audacity to carry
it out!

She wet her lips again, and took desperate hold of her courage. Even as
she did so, she almost smiled--she was thinking: was this another case
when she was doing something bad to do something good? Never mind; she
must go through with it now. She _must_!

"Yes, it is a very pretty dress, indeed," she stammered; "and it was
Fannie's, too, wasn't it?"

Mrs. Gale beamed.

"Yes!--and didn't I get it out finely? You know sleeves are smaller, so
that helped, and the breadths were so full last year! I think I never
got a dress out better," she finished proudly.

Genevieve touched the folds lightly.

"And this isn't faded at all, is it?" she murmured pleasantly.

"What?" Mrs. Gale's voice was a little sharp.

Genevieve wet her lips twice this time before she could speak.

"I say, isn't it nice that this one isn't faded? You know Elsie had such
a time with that chambray last summer!"

"What do you mean, please?" There was no doubt now about the sharpness
in Mrs. Gale's voice.

Genevieve managed a laugh--but it was not a very mirthful one.

"Why, 'twas so funny, you know; it was made from the twins' dresses, and
they weren't faded alike. It was just as Elsie said--she didn't know
whether to turn Cora or Clara toward folks. It _was_ funny; only, of
course it did plague poor Elsie awfully, and I felt so sorry for her."

"You felt sorry--_sorry_ for _my niece_?" The voice was so very angry
this time that Genevieve trembled. She was sure now that it was
bad--this thing she was doing--that good might come. But she kept
bravely on.

"Why, yes, of course; all of us girls were sorry for her. You know Elsie
does so love new dresses, and of course she doesn't have them very
often. Last summer, when she was feeling so bad over her chambray, I--I
offered her one of mine, but--"

"You--you o