"I guess it'll snow to-night. If it does, come over
to my house to-morrow and we'll get out the sled. We can take turns bein' horse, you know."
But Irene shook her head.
"I'd like to," she replied, "but mamma won't let me. I haven't a dress that's fit."
Lou's face gleamed with surprise.
"O, my!" she said, "can't you ever take a hill-ride, or build a snow-man, or—" but Irene looked so sober that Lou's sympathies awoke. "Never mind," she added, "you'll come up to your grandpa's again in the summer; then you'll wear do-up clothes, and we'll have lots of fun."
"The do-up clothes are the worst," replied Irene sadly. "Mamma don't want them soiled."
Lou looked down at her plaid frock; she thought of the plentiful ginghams at home. Suddenly she turned and rushed headlong back to mamma.
"O my!" she began, "Irene Clarke can't have no fun! She ain't got no slide-dresses, she can't soil her do-up clothes, and—O my! mamma—it's all them ruffles and puffs! I wouldn't wear 'em for the world! No, I just wouldn't!"
Mamma could but smile.