"And everything I've got is as old as the hills," groaned Amy
Carringford.
"Well, look here—and here—and here!" Janice tossed as many frocks upon the bed. "What do you suppose is going to become of those?"
"Oh, Janice! how pretty they are. This pink and white one—"
"M-mm! my mother made them for me," said Janice, trying to speak bravely. "And now they are too small, anyway. I've grown a lot since a year ago."
"Oh, Janice!"
"So you are going to wear one of them to Stella's party," declared Janice confidently. "The pink and white one if you like."
"Oh, Janice, I can't. My mother wouldn't let me."
"I'm going to make her let you. I'm going to beg her on my knees!" declared Janice, laughing. "Do get into it, Amy, and see if it fits you.
"Wel-l-l!"
It did. There was no doubt but that Amy was just a wee bit smaller than Janice and that the frocks were an almost perfect fit.