“Huldah, dear,” said Miss Rose, softly, laying a gentle hand on the little girl’s shaking shoulders, “You have what is better than money.  You have a kind, willing heart, and a wise little head, and these are of more value than money, for no money can buy them, but you have given them both to us all this time, asking no return.  And you know, dear, brownies are always repaid in this way.  You can soon pay for these things, by taking care of Mrs. Perry, doing all you can to help her, and making her happy and comfortable.  Then, with your basket-making you will be able to earn enough to clothe yourself in the future, and perhaps help others as well.  So don’t cry, child, but turn round and smile, and let us see how nice you look in one of your new frocks.”

Huldah swung round eagerly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with happiness.  “Oh yes, yes, so I can.  I’ll be able to help by-and-by!  Oh, Miss Rose, you are so kind to me, I don’t hardly know what to say, it seems as if it can’t be real, its all too beautiful.”

“It isn’t too beautiful, brownie.  Life can be as beautiful as any dream, even more so.  It all depends upon ourselves, and what we make it for each other.”

“Oh, I will try to make it beautiful for those who are so good to me,” thought Huldah, with almost passionate determination, as she arrayed herself in some of her new clothes; and her heart beat fast and her spirits rose, as she dreamed beautiful dreams of her coming life.

All this had happened the day before, and now Huldah stood in the garden in her blue print frock and holland apron, her hair well brushed and shining, her face full of sober gladness.  On the line hung the old brown frock, which had been washed and spread out to dry.

“Life can be as beautiful as any dream, even more beautiful.  It all depends upon ourselves, and what we make of it for each other.”  As she stood looking away from the garden to the quiet sunny stretch of country beyond, the words echoed and re-echoed through her brain, “What we make of it for each other.”

“Why, of course,” she thought to herself, “the world is just the same, the sun and the breeze, the earth and the sky, just the same as they were when I was living with Uncle Tom and Aunt Emma.  ’Tis Miss Rose and Mrs. Perry who have made it all seem so beautiful.  Just fancy two people making such a difference.  I wish, oh, I wish I could make something seem beautiful to somebody, just as they have for me.”

The busy hens had ceased their scratching, to gaze wonderingly at the little blue figure standing so still in the path near them.  Dick sat in front of her, and stared up at her with perplexed, uneasy eyes.  It was unlike his little mistress to be dressed as she was, and to be so quiet.  A little whimper of distress broke from him, he could bear the silence no longer.  The sound roused Huldah from her reverie.  “Why, Dick, what’s the matter?” she cried, throwing her arm round him, and kissing the top of his head.  “Why, there’s nothing to fret about now, it’s all lovely.  You and me have got a home, and we’ve got work to do, and oh, Dick, we’ve got to do a lot, to make up for all that’s been done for us; and we’ll do it, won’t we, old man!  We’ll never mind what we do, as long as it’s to help somebody.”