"Lassie, you're incorrigible."
"But that dress, with that black cotton lace over that old red silk."
"I never even noticed it."
"Do you mean to say you've never noticed that dirty red silk front?"
Alva shaded her eyes with her hand. "Lassie," she said, almost sadly, "why does nothing count in this world except the front of one's frock?"
Contrition smote the young girl. "Oh, forgive me, forgive me," she pleaded; "I didn't think. I am interested! Play I didn't speak in that way; I won't again. Indeed, I won't."
"Of course I'll forgive you, dear; it's nothing to forgive, anyway; but it makes it so hard to tell anything serious when one sets out in such a way. I wonder how many good and beautiful thoughts have died unexpressed, just because their first breath was met with mocking!"
"Don't say that; I won't be that way—I'll never be that way again. I do like Miss Lathbun—truly I do; I think she has sort of a sweet face, and she must be clever to have been able to make a front of any kind out of that lace. See, I'm quite serious now; and so interested. Do go on!"
Alva looked at her for a minute with a smile.
"You can't possibly overlook the front, can you?" she said; "but I will go on, and you will learn never to judge again, as I learned myself; for I must tell you, Lassie, that all you feel about them, I felt at first—until I learned to know better. I didn't notice the front, but I noticed some other things—little things like grammar; but American grammar isn't a hard and fast proposition, anyway, you know."