"There's time enough for that," said Mr. Clark, and then added, "I want to speak to you about something else," and he told the story of Emma's trouble. "I thought perhaps you could--"

"Yes, indeed, I'm sure I can. Thank you for telling me," she held out her hand. "How kind you are, Mr. Clark! Good night."

This makes it quite plain how Mrs. Morrison happened to walk into Mrs.

Bond's domain the next day with a white dress over her arm.

"I want you to look at this, Mrs. Bond," she said. "It is a dress I had made for Frances last spring, and by a mistake it was cut so short it had to be faced. Now she has outgrown it, and nothing can be done. Do you think Emma could wear it? Frances is a good deal taller. I have thought of offering it to you before, and now it has occurred to me that Emma may not have a dress ready to wear to the school entertainment,--Gladys was telling us about it yesterday,--and if you will accept it, it will be doing me a great favor. I dislike so to have it wasted."

"It is a very pretty dress; it is too bad Frances can't wear it," Mrs.

Bond remarked, examining it critically.

"Then you will let me give it to Emma?"

Emma's mother was not hard hearted; she liked to see her children happy, but she had a stern feeling that hardship was likely to be their lot in this world, and the sooner they became used to it the better. However, when her pride was convinced that Mrs. Morrison could not use the dress, she accepted it gratefully.

Emma's joy was beyond words, and she very much wondered how the Spectacle Man could have known that something was going to happen.

When the eventful day came, Mrs. Morrison rolled her hair for her and tied her long braids with b.u.t.terfly bows of red, white, and blue, and when she was dressed, Frances said, "Why, Emma, I believe you are as pretty as Gladys!"

Certainly no little girl waved her flag with more enthusiasm, or rejoiced more truly in the celebration of Washington's Birthday.

CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.

AT THE LOAN EXHIBIT.

Before the end of February there began to be hints of spring in the air; now and then there came a day so mild and fair it seemed to belong to April, and as the winter pa.s.sed it carried with it some at least of the cares that had for a while rested upon the inmates of the optician's house.

Frances and her mother rejoiced because every day brought nearer their traveller's return; Miss Moore, busy with the Easter work in her kindergarten, was finding a new meaning in the season; and even Lillian Sherwin felt now and then a thrill of joy that was like a prophecy of days to come, to her sore heart.

Mr. Clark was cheerful because he loved sunshine; and though he could not as yet see the way through his difficulties, he felt sure it was there, and that in good time he should find it.

The pleasure of Washington's Birthday lingered with Emma; the General, restored to health and amiability, was no longer such a care, and she found time once more to spend in that haven of delight upstairs with Frances.

George Washington was sent to the Loan Exhibit, together with the cabinet, some silver candlesticks, and the Wedgwood cream jug and sugar dish. With the blank s.p.a.ce over the mantel the study looked deserted; and the owl, deprived of his resting-place on the cabinet, perched forlornly on a corner of the bookcase.

Frances took great interest in the Exhibit, and insisted upon going, chiefly it seemed for the purpose of seeing how Washington looked in his new surroundings. As Mrs. Morrison was housed with a cold, Miss Sherwin offered to take her.

They found a beautiful display of valuable and interesting things arranged in a large, handsomely decorated hall; but not until Frances had viewed the portrait and made a diligent search for Mr. Clark's other possessions would she give any attention to less familiar things.

She and Lillian were bending with delight over a case of miniatures when she heard her name spoken, and turning, saw Mrs. Marvin.

"Do you like the miniatures?" the lady asked. "Then come over to the other side; there is one there I want you to see."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "She pointed out a picture, set in diamonds"]

She pointed out a picture, set in diamonds, of a lovely young woman.

"How pretty! Is it you?" Frances asked, seeing a resemblance to the handsome face beside her.

Mrs. Marvin smiled. "No, it is my mother,--the little girl you are so fond of, after she was grown. They wanted the portrait too," she added, "but I have decided not to trust it out of my hands again."

She pointed out several other miniatures in which she thought Frances would be interested, all the while keeping the child's hand clasped in her own. Miss Sherwin, seeing her charge had found an acquaintance, moved on down the aisle.

"Your friend seems to be interested in the ma.n.u.scripts; suppose we rest a few minutes," and Mrs. Marvin drew Frances down beside her on a settee that stood near a tall case of lace and embroidery.

"Who is the young lady with you?" she asked.

Frances' explained, and Mrs. Marvin remarked that she was a handsome girl.

"And she is clever, too, for she writes lovely stories and ill.u.s.trates them," said Frances, impressively.

"Does she, indeed?"

"Yes, she wrote one for us about a song the Spectacle Man--I mean Mr.

Clark--sings. It is a fairy tale, and _The Young People's Journal_ took it and are going to publish it next month. It has a beautiful moral to it."

"What do you know about morals?" laughed Mrs. Marvin.

"I found this one out when I had a quarrel with Gladys. Mr. Clark helped me to see it," was the reply; and then, as her companion looked interested, Frances continued:

"It is hard to explain it because you haven't read the story. It is called 'The Missing Bridge,' and is about a young man who couldn't get across the river that was between him and the girl he was going to marry, because there wasn't any bridge. That is he _thought_ there wasn't, though it really was there all the time, and had just been made invisible by a magician.

"Well, you know Gladys said she never would speak to me again, and that was like having the bridge broken between us; don't you think so? But Mr. Clark said he thought it was only hidden by the clouds of anger and unkindness. I think it is very uncomfortable to quarrel, don't you?"

then, seeing an odd expression in her companion's face, Frances hastened to add: "Of course I know you wouldn't quarrel with any one _now_, but I thought maybe you had when you were a little girl. But don't you think it is a nice moral? and--oh, yes--the last of it is that love and courage can always find a way."

"And how about you and Gladys?"

"We made up. If you would like to read the story, Mrs. Marvin, it will be out next week. The March number of _The Young People's Journal_, and it's only twenty-five cents."

Mrs. Marvin smiled. "I shall certainly get a copy," she said, adding, "I see your friend looking this way. Suppose we go to her; I should like to meet her."

Why she said this she couldn't have told, and she half repented it the next minute; but when Frances introduced Miss Sherwin she was all graciousness.

"Frances and I have an odd way of meeting every now and then, and have become great friends. I have been showing her a miniature of my mother, and she has been telling me about your story."

"Why, Frances!" said Miss Sherwin, a pretty color coming into her face.

This girl was extremely attractive, Mrs. Marvin decided, and found a good deal to say to her over the collection of ancient missals. After a while Frances wandered off to look at the portraits.

Mrs. Marvin's eyes followed her as, with her hands clasped behind her, she stood gazing at an old pioneer.

"She is a very charming child," she remarked.

"She is, and she ought to be, for her mother is one of the sweetest women in the world," Miss Sherwin responded, in eager praise of her friend, but the next moment she had the feeling of having somehow said the wrong thing. Was it some change of expression in the handsome face, or simply the silence that followed her little outburst, which caused her discomfort? She could not tell. She had been wonderfully charmed by this stately person, but now the spell was broken; with one impulse they moved toward Frances.