Cassy sprang up eagerly, then drew back. "I wish I could," she stammered, "but my shoes—and father's only middling, so I don't like to ask for more."
"Of course not," broke in Bessie, who, though puzzled to know what it was to be "middling," was sure there was something wrong about the shoes. "Of course not; but maybe you know 'jack-stones'?"
In a twinkling she brought five marbles from the depth of her pocket, and the two were deep in the mysteries of "horses in the stall," "Johnny over," "peas in the pot," and all the rest of that fascinating game.
One person having spoken to the forlorn stranger, two more appeared on the scene. It is always so. These girls wanted Bessie and her new friend for "hop-scotch," but Bessie interfered before there was any chance for embarrassment.
"We can't leave this game," said she, decidedly.
"How could she think to speak so quickly?" thought Cassy. "I should have felt so bad to explain about my shoes!"
It was the very next morning that Bessie Merriam came to school with a mysterious bundle under her arm. She took Cassy by the hand, and led her—where? Why, into the coal closet!
"It's so very private here," explained Bessie. "And, do you know, it's no fun to play romping games in these good boots of mine; so I hunted up an old pair. And, do you think, I stumbled on these old ones too. Would you mind using one pair? You won't think me impertinent, will you?"
Bessie was quite out of breath, and gazing at Cassy with wide-open, pleading eyes.
Those boots fitted to a T. Cassy could jump and run to her heart's content. Jump and run she did, for at recess Bessie drew her into the midst of the other girls, and such a game of "I spy" Cassy had never imagined. Nobody said a word about her droll gown. "She is my friend," Bessie had announced, and that was enough.