"Yes, I—I ought to know. But—I don't."
He grunted.
"I s'pose," she ventured timidly, "that nobody ever answers questions here, either."
He looked uncomfortable. "Yes," he retorted, "everybody does."
"Then,"—advancing an eager step—"why don't you?"
He mopped his forehead. "Well—well—if I must, I must: This is where all the lights go when they're put out at night."
"Oh!" And now as she glanced from tree to tree she saw that what he had said was true. For the greater part of the lights were electric bulbs; while many were gas-jets, and a few kerosene-flames.
Still marveling, her look chanced to fall upon herself. And she found that she was not wearing a despised muslin frock! Her dress was gingham!—an adorable plaid with long sleeves, and a patch-pocket low down on the right side!
"You darling!" she exclaimed happily, and thrust a hand into the pocket. "I guess They made it!"
Next she looked down at her feet—and could scarcely believe! She had on no stockings! She did not even have on slippers. She was barefoot!