"Why, mother!" exclaimed the little girl, "you don't mean me to wear that!"
"I surely do," said Mrs. Merrill, pleasantly; "it's just the right kind of a dress for this secret."
"But Daddah's secret is a nice secret," said Mary Jane positively.
"His secrets always are," agreed her mother.
"And nice secrets ought to have nice dresses," said Mary Jane.
"Nice secrets ought to have dresses that belong to them," corrected Mrs.
Merrill. "We don't talk about things that are decided," reminded Mrs.
Merrill. "Put on the blue dress and come downstairs, Mary Jane. I'm sure
you will be glad—when father comes home."
So Mary Jane put on the blue dress, but she wasn't very happy about it; she felt sure, certain all the time that she was dressing, that Daddah would be disappointed when he saw her. And she began to wonder if the secret was so very wonderful after all; it didn't sound so wonderful if an old dress went with it—in the afternoon!
But even though she was disappointed and a bit doubtful, she went down to the front porch and sat on the step where she could see father the minute he turned the corner of Fifth Street.
"Isn't this a fine day to be out of doors!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, contentedly. "See Mr. Robin out there, digging away for his family? He has a hard time hunting worms in the grass. I expect he wishes we had a newly dug garden around this place." Mary Jane looked up indifferently, just in time to see a twinkle in her mother's eye. Did the twinkle have anything to do with the secret? Mary Jane wondered.
"What would he do with a garden?" she asked.