“I am all ready but a dress,” said Elnora.

The Bird Woman began opening closets and pulling out drawers and boxes.

“I think I can make it this way,” she said.

She snatched up a creamy lace yoke with long sleeves that recently had been made for her and held it out.  Elnora slipped into it, and the Bird Woman began smoothing out wrinkles and sewing in pins.  It fitted very well with a little lapping in the back.  Next, from among the Angel’s clothing she caught up a white silk waist with low neck and elbow sleeves, and Elnora put it on.  It was large enough, but distressingly short in the waist, for the Angel had worn it at a party when she was sixteen.  The Bird Woman loosened the sleeves and pushed them to a puff on the shoulders, catching them in places with pins.  She began on the wide draping of the yoke, fastening it front, back and at each shoulder.  She pulled down the waist and pinned it.  Next came a soft white dress skirt of her own.  By pinning her waist band quite four inches above Elnora’s, the Bird Woman could secure a perfect Empire sweep, with the clinging silk.  Then she began with the wide white ribbon that was to trim a new frock for herself, bound it three times around the high waist effect she had managed, tied the ends in a knot and let them fall to the floor in a beautiful sash.

“I want four white roses, each with two or three leaves,” she cried.

Anna ran to bring them, while the Bird Woman added pins.

“Elnora,” she said, “forgive me, but tell me truly.  Is your mother so poor as to make this necessary?”

“No,” answered Elnora.  “Next year I am heir to my share of over three hundred acres of land covered with almost as valuable timber as was in the Limberlost.  We adjoin it.  There could be thirty oil wells drilled that would yield to us the thousands our neighbours are draining from under us, and the bare land is worth over one hundred dollars an acre for farming.  She is not poor, she is—­I don’t know what she is.  A great trouble soured and warped her.  It made her peculiar.  She does not in the least understand, but it is because she doesn’t care to, instead of ignorance.  She does not——­”

Elnora stopped.

“She is—­is different,” finished the girl.

Anna came with the roses.  The Bird Woman set one on the front of the draped yoke, one on each shoulder and the last among the bright masses of brown hair.  Then she turned the girl facing the tall mirror.

“Oh!” panted Elnora.  “You are a genius!  Why, I will look as well as any of them.”

“Thank goodness for that!” cried the Bird Woman.  “If it wouldn’t do, I should have been ill.  You are lovely; altogether lovely!  Ordinarily I shouldn’t say that; but when I think of how you are carpentered, I’m admiring the result.”