“I don’t understand it, but as she never says much to me about my affairs, I won’t take any notice till she gets through, then I’ll admire everything all I can.  It is so pleasant to be praised after you’ve been trying hard.”

She might well say that, for she got very little herself, and her trials had been many, her efforts not always successful, and her reward seemed a long way off.  Poor Boo could have sympathized with her, for he had suffered much persecution from his small schoolmates when he appeared with large gray patches on the little brown trousers, where he had worn them out coasting down those too fascinating steps.  As he could not see the patches himself, he fancied them invisible, and came home much afflicted by the jeers of his friends.  Then Molly tried to make him a new pair out of a sack of her own; but she cut both sides for the same leg, so one was wrong side out.  Fondly hoping no one would observe it, she sewed bright buttons wherever they could be put, and sent confiding Boo away in a pair of blue trousers, which were absurdly hunchy behind and buttony before.  He came home heart-broken and muddy, having been accidentally tipped into a mud-puddle by two bad boys who felt that such tailoring was an insult to mankind.  That roused Molly’s spirit, and she begged her father to take the boy and have him properly fitted out, as he was old enough now to be well-dressed, and she wouldn’t have him tormented.  His attention being called to the trousers, Mr. Bemis had a good laugh over them, and then got Boo a suit which caused him to be the admired of all observers, and to feel as proud as a little peacock.

Cheered by this success, Molly undertook a set of small shirts, and stitched away bravely, though her own summer clothes were in a sad state, and for the first time in her life she cared about what she should wear.

“I must ask Merry, and may be father will let me go with her and her mother when they do their shopping, instead of leaving it to Miss Bat, who dresses me like an old woman.  Merry knows what is pretty and becoming:  I don’t,” thought Molly, meditating in the bushel basket, with her eyes on her snuff-colored gown and the dark purple bow at the end of the long braid Muffet had been playing with.

Molly was beginning to see that even so small a matter as the choice of colors made a difference in one’s appearance, and to wonder why Merry always took such pains to have a blue tie for the gray dress, a rosy one for the brown, and gloves that matched her bonnet ribbons.  Merry never wore a locket outside her sack, a gay bow in her hair and soiled cuffs, a smart hat and the braid worn off her skirts.  She was exquisitely neat and simple, yet always looked well-dressed and pretty; for her love of beauty taught her what all girls should learn as soon as they begin to care for appearances—­that neatness and simplicity are their best ornaments, that good habits are better than fine clothes, and the most elegant manners are the kindest.