were lovely. If they had lived, they'd been near your age now, and I'd want them to look like you."
There was nothing but sympathy in every girl face before Margaret Sinton.
"Why, thank you!" said one of them. "We are very sorry for you."
"Of course, you are," said Margaret. "Everybody always has been. And because I can't ever have the joy of a mother in thinking for my girls and buying pretty things for them, there is nothing left for me but to do what I can for some one who has no mother to care for her. I know a girl, who would be just as pretty as any of you, if she had the clothes, but her mother does not think about her, so I got to mother her some myself."
"She must be a lucky girl," said another.
"Oh, she loves me," said Margaret, "and I love her. I want her too look just like you do. Please tell me about your clothes. Are these the dresses and hats you wear to school?" What kind of goods are they, and where do you buy them?"
The girls began to laugh and cluster around Margaret. Wesley Sinton strode down the store with his head high in pride of her, but his heart was sore over the memory of two little faces under Brushwood sod. He inquired his way to the shoe department.
"Why, every one of us have on gingham or linen dresses," they said, "and they are our school clothes."
For a few moments there was a babel of laughing voices explaining to the delighted Margaret that school dresses