Mary Vance walked down the Valley with her head held high.  She had on a new blue velvet cap with a scarlet rosette in it, a coat of navy blue cloth and a little squirrel-fur muff.  She was very conscious of her new clothes and very well pleased with herself.  Her hair was elaborately crimped, her face was quite plump, her cheeks rosy, her white eyes shining.  She did not look much like the forlorn and ragged waif the Merediths had found in the old Taylor barn.  Una tried not to feel envious.  Here was Mary with a new velvet cap, but she and Faith had to wear their shabby old gray tams again this winter.  Nobody ever thought of getting them new ones and they were afraid to ask their father for them for fear that he might be short of money and then he would feel badly.  Mary had told them once that ministers were always short of money, and found it “awful hard” to make ends meet.  Since then Faith and Una would have gone in rags rather than ask their father for anything if they could help it.  They did not worry a great deal over their shabbiness; but it was rather trying to see Mary Vance coming out in such style and putting on such airs about it, too.  The new squirrel muff was really the last straw.  Neither Faith nor Una had ever had a muff, counting themselves lucky if they could compass mittens without holes in them.  Aunt Martha could not see to darn holes and though Una tried to, she made sad cobbling.  Somehow, they could not make their greeting of Mary very cordial.  But Mary did not mind or notice that; she was not overly sensitive.  She vaulted lightly to a seat on the pine tree, and laid the offending muff on a bough.  Una saw that it was lined with shirred red satin and had red tassels.  She looked down at her own rather purple, chapped, little hands and wondered if she would ever, ever be able to put them into a muff like that.

“Give us a chew,” said Mary companionably.  Nan, Di and Faith all produced an amber-hued knot or two from their pockets and passed them to Mary.  Una sat very still.  She had four lovely big knots in the pocket of her tight, thread-bare little jacket, but she wasn’t going to give one of them to Mary Vance—­not one Let Mary pick her own gum!  People with squirrel muffs needn’t expect to get everything in the world.

“Great day, isn’t it?” said Mary, swinging her legs, the better, perhaps, to display new boots with very smart cloth tops.  Una tucked her feet under her.  There was a hole in the toe of one of her boots and both laces were much knotted.  But they were the best she had.  Oh, this Mary Vance!  Why hadn’t they left her in the old barn?