Marion blushed, but she shook her head decidedly.
“I cannot afford to wear them even though you give them to me, Miss Gray,” she said, slowly. “I must dress according to my station in life, and as yet I am only a poor farmer’s daughter.”
“But surely you are not obliged to wear homespun when you have something better! That is false pride, my dear,” said Miss Gray, stubbornly.
“I wish I could think so, but I can’t,” said Marion, sighing; “for I do love pretty clothes. I guess I wouldn’t be a woman if I didn’t.”
“Well, you must keep them, anyway,” said Miss Gray, decidedly. “You’ll get over those notions some day, and then they’ll come in handy.”
“She means that you will not be able to resist putting on the pretty duds,” said Mr. Ray, who was listening “and I hope you won’t try very hard to resist, for all women should dress prettily, it is a part of their duty.”
Marion smiled, but her eyes were growing sadder every minute. She was beginning to wonder if he would like her as well in homespun. Some way she hated the thought that he would ever be ashamed of her.
Then after a moment her good sense returned. “It will be a good test for his friendship,” she thought. “I’ll do it for that reason as well as the other.”
An hour later Mr. Ray had taken his sister home and Marion was alone in her room arrayed in her simple, country garments.