“Oh, Frieda, Frieda!” echoed Beth, hardly less moved. She threw her arms around Frieda, who kissed her hot cheek, neither remembering any difference in position between them, both overwhelmed with a common joy. “What a beau-ti-ful Christmas gift!” cried Beth. “I was sure she wouldn’t get here because we didn’t hear a word. Aunt Alida told me I must hurry, Frieda, so I suppose we must put off being glad till to-morrow. It’s a comfort that we shall be just as glad next year!” “Forever, Miss Beth!” said Frieda. “If you hadn’t spoken to your uncle Liebchen could not have been cured. I’d die for you and your good, good uncle and aunt!” “So would I! I mean for them!” And Beth laughed. “Is that my frock? Won’t it frighten the children if I’m too fine?” Across her bed lay a white lace gown, filmy and exquisite over its white silk slip. “They won’t see the frock, Miss Beth; there’s a--a something to wear over it. The frock is for you to wear at dinner when they’re gone; there’ll be no time to change,” explained Frieda. “I don’t understand,” sighed Beth, contentedly resigning herself to Frieda’s work on her hair. It was so delightful to be in the midst of mystery and to postpone its solution a little longer! Frieda shook out the little girl’s golden hair and brushed and brushed it till it shone and flew around her shoulders in masses of living gold, stirred by every breath. Then Frieda put white silk stockings and white slippers on Beth’s feet and slipped carefully over the fly-away hair, first the soft white china silk under-gown, then the gown of white lace, as filmy as a web. “It makes me look like a dandelion field with a big cobweb over it, my hair all loose, and this webby lace,” said Beth, surveying her reflection with unspeakable delight. She recalled the plain gowns, shrouded in aprons which she had worn in her old home, with a wave of pity for Aunt Rebecca. “Aunt Rebecca thinks it’s wicked to love to look nice, but it isn’t; it’s just being glad. Flowers and clouds and birds, everything is pretty! I’m only glad the way they are! Poor Aunt Rebecca; I hope she isn’t lonely without me now! She got a letter from me to-day and I tried to put things she’d like in my box for her! She does love molasses peppermints and sugared almonds, and I sent lots of them, and some nice books and fine towels and handkerchiefs, and--lots of things! I had to write her that it was my own money, or she’d be afraid Uncle Jim was buying things for her. Poor Aunt Rebecca! It’s hard to make people have a good time when they’re out of the habit of it. What’s that, Frieda? What in all the world is that?” she added hastily, for Frieda was bringing out a spangled garment and a long veil and pointed cap, also shining at every turn.