"Your journal told," said Sarah, smiling pleasantly.
"I'm glad it did," cried May, emphatically. "I was never so tired of being myself as I am of being somebody else!"
She ran up to Sarah and kissed her rapturously; then to Phyllis and kissed her three, four, yes, six, times. With her arms around Phyllis's neck, May said,—
"You couldn't have been kinder to me when I was unhappy if you had been my own sister. You just believed in me without question, and that's true friendship."
Phyllis was too happy at this praise even to answer, but May knew the reason of her silence and saved her the trouble of replying, saying,—
"Will you all excuse me a minute, please?" Then she darted into the house before they could speak.
They excused her five, ten, fifteen minutes, and then she returned. Knickerbockers and blouse were gone, and in their place was a quaint white frock, with low, short waist and elaborate full sleeves covered with exquisite embroidery.
"Katherine's dress!" exclaimed Sarah, looking at the General.
"I found it in the little cedar chest in the attic," said May, looking at her waist and sleeves with admiring eyes. "Doesn't it fit well? May I wear these clothes while I stay, Miss Sarah? They fit, for I tried them on a week ago and they look just like my dresses, only mine are not so much like silk. May I wear them? I won't hurt them a bit!"