say that I can have it. You can see, cousin Joan, how pleased I am with it.”
“There is n’t much doubt of that,” said the old woman, almost smiling at Amy’s impetuosity. “I’m pretty sure that your mother will let you wear it. There, you’d better keep it yourself now, and lock up the trunk.”
“Yes, ’m,” and Amy, in turn, laid the transparent white stuff in her mother’s lap, and ran off to fasten up the trunk.
“There,” said her mother, as she returned to the room, “I have been talking it over with cousin Joan, and we agree that it would be a great pity for you not to go to the wedding. I can have Miss Storm for a day, and if we both work, we can finish the dress. It must be made very simply, and I have some thread lace to trim the waist that will give it just the proper finish, and you have taken such good care of your white sash that it will be quite fit to wear with it.”
“You must take notice of everything at the wedding,” said cousin Joan; “I have n’t been at one myself for years and years, and there ’ll probably be some very fine things at it. I like to hear about pretty dresses sometimes,” and poor cousin Joan turned over a little wearily in her chair.
“Take the dress to my room,” said Mrs. Redmond, “and I will help cousin Joan get to bed.”
When Brenda called on Amy the next day, she was full of apologies for her apparent neglect.
“I know that you ’ll think me a perfect wretch, but I
