“You do not have to repay them to me necessarily, my child; you can pass them over, as you will be constantly doing, to all these groups of children, day after day.  I am a sort of stupid, rich old lady who serves as a source of supply.  My chief brilliancy lies in devising original methods of getting rid of my surplus in all sorts of odd and delightful ways, left untried, for the most part, by other people.  I ’ve been buying up splendid old trees in the outskirts of certain New England country towns,—­trees that were in danger of being cut down for wood.  Twenty-five to forty dollars buys a glorious tree, and it is safe for ever and ever to give shade to the tired traveler and beauty to the landscape.  Each of my boys has his pet odd scheme for helping the world to ‘go right.’  Donald, for instance, puts stamps on the unstamped letters displayed in the Cambridge post-office, and sends them spinning on their way.  He never receives the thanks of the careless writers, but he takes pleasure in making things straight.  Paul writes me from Phillips Academy that this year he is sending the nine Ruggles children (a poor family of our acquaintance) to some sort of entertainment once every month.  Hugh has just met a lovely girl who has induced him to help her maintain a boarding establishment for sick and deserted cats and dogs; and there we are!”

“But I ’m a young, strong girl, and I fear I ’m not so worthy an object of charity as a tree, an unstamped letter, an infant Ruggles, or a deserted cat!  Still, I know the dresses will be lovely, and I had quite forgotten that I must be clothed in purple and fine linen for five months to come.  It would have been one of my first thoughts last year, I am afraid; but lately this black dress has shut everything else from my sight.”

“It was my thought that you should give up your black dress just for these occasions, dear, and wear something more cheerful for the children’s sake.  The dresses are very simple, for I ’ve heard you say you can never tell a story when you are ‘dressed up,’ but they will please you, I know.  They will be brought home this evening, and you must slip them all on, and show yourself to us in each.”

They would have pleased anybody, even a princess, Polly thought, as she stood before her bed that evening patting the four pretty new waists, and smoothing with childlike delight the folds of the four pretty skirts.  It was such an odd sensation to have four dresses at a time!

They were of simple and inexpensive materials, as was appropriate; but Mrs. Bird’s exquisite taste and feeling for what would suit Polly’s personality made them more attractive than if they had been rich or expensive.

There was a white China silk, with belt and shoulder-knots of black velvet; a white Japanese crepe, with purple lilacs strewed over its surface, and frills of violet ribbon for ornament; a Christmas dress of soft, white camel’s hair, with bands of white-fox fur round the slightly pointed neck and elbow-sleeves; and, last of all, a Quaker gown of silver-gray nun’s cloth, with a surplice and full undersleeves of white crepe-lisse.