She stood looking down upon her neat plaid dress with a very
dissatisfied face.
"Mamma," she said, "why can't I wear pretty clothes every day like Irene
Clarke? She always has puffs and ruffles, and her aprons are trimmed
_so_ nice."
Mamma finished buttoning the tippet and tied down the snug little hat.
"Puffs and ruffles and dainty aprons _are_ nice," she replied gently.
"Mamma likes pretty things as well as Lou, but always in their place,
dearie."
But mamma's words did not help. Little Lou went out with the same
dissatisfied face.
"They say mammas know best," she spoke. "It's funny, though. Irene's
mamma knows a different best from mine--O, there she is!" and Lou
hurried to meet the little city girl whose puffs and ruffles had made
her plaid frock seem so mean.
[Illustration: LOU.]
It chanced that Irene wore a fresh suit, one that Lou had never seen.
Delightedly she spied the dainty robe.
"Ain't that sweet!" she exclaimed, and feasted her eyes till, suddenly
looking down at Irene's gaiters, she caught a glimpse of a curious
field-bug trotting along on the ground. My little lady forgot the
ruffles, forgot everything but her desire for a closer view.
"O, see--see!" she cried excitedly, half-running, half-crawling after
the bug, "see this funny thing! I can't catch him! But, O my--ain't he
cunnin'! Irene, do get down here and see!"
Irene took a step forward, then stood still.
"I can't," she said, "I might soil my dress."
But Lou scarcely heard. She was absorbed in the funny bug. On she went
trying to catch him, till finally he slipped round a tree-root and was
seen no more.
Back came Lou to Irene brushing the dirt from her frock.
"It's cold standin' here," she said, "let's play tag."
"I can't," spoke Irene again, "I might trip and soil my dress."
Lou's eyes went up and down the dainty robe. "It isn't much of a
tag-frock," she thought. But she was a restless maid. Between hopping
and dancing she glanced up at the sky and exclaimed:
"I guess it'll snow to-night. If it does, come over to my house
to-morrow and we'll get out the sled. We can take turns bein' horse, you
know."
But Irene shook her head.
"I'd like to," she replied, "but mamma won't let me. I haven't a dress
that's fit."
Lou's face gleamed with surprise.
"O, my!" she said, "can't you ever take a hill-ride, or build a
snow-man, or--" but Irene looked so sober that Lou's sympathies awoke.
"Never mind," she added, "you'll come up to your grandpa's again in the
summer; then you'll wear _do-up_ clothes, and we'll have lots of fun."
"The _do-up_ clothes are the worst," replied Irene sadly. "Mamma don't
want _them_ soiled."
Lou looked down at her plaid frock; she thought of the plentiful
ginghams at home. Suddenly she turned and rushed headlong back to mamma.
"O my!" she began, "Irene Clarke can't have no fun! She ain't got no
slide-dresses, she can't soil her _do-up_ clothes, and--O my!
mamma--it's all them ruffles and puffs! I wouldn't wear 'em for the
world! No, I just wouldn't!"
Mamma could but smile.
"I am glad my little girl has changed," she said. "I feared, a while
ago, that because she could not have ruffles and puffs on her dresses
she was going to wear them up in her face."
The free little out-of-doors girl blushed; and then she could have
hugged her plaid frock for very joy.