It was on her sixteenth birthday that June was taken into an adjoining room and saw all these treasures laid upon the bed. She did not at first understand that the two pretty dresses and all the comfortable, well-made clothes were for her. When this was made clear to her the tears brimmed to the long-lashed eyes. The starved little Cinderella was greatly touched. She turned to Mollie and buried her twitching face in a friendly bosom.
“Now—now—now,” Mollie reproved gently, stroking the dark crisp hair. “This is no way to act, dearie, an’ all the ladies so kind to you. You want to thank ’em, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—but—I—I—”
The smothered voice was tearful.
Mollie smiled at the committee. “I reckon she wants me to tell you for her that she’s plumb outa words to let you know how good she thinks you-all are.”
The black head nodded vigorously. “You’re the best folks—”
Mrs. Platt, a large and comfortable mother of seven, answered placidly. “I expect you’ll find, dearie, that most folks are good when you get on the right side of them. Now you try on them clothes an’ see if they fit. We tried ’em on my Mary. She’s about your size. You’re comin’ down to our house to supper to-night. I want you should get acquainted with the girls.”
June looked at Mollie, who nodded smilingly.
“I’ll be terrible glad to come, ma’am,” June said.
“Then that’s settled. They’re nice girls, if I do say it myself that am their mother.”