"I hope my heart won't ever get old," said Bella seriously. "It must be dreadful not to take any interest in people or anything." One Sunday, the last of this old life, so comparatively happy and free of care, Mrs. Langley stopped Bella just as she was leaving. "I want you to come in to see me to-morrow," she said, "and bring Tom with you. I am making a print frock for you, and a holland coat for him to wear to market on Saturdays. They'll be much more comfortable for you both than your thick cloth ones." Then, in answer to Bella's cry of delight, "You must thank your Aunt Emma, too; 'twas she thought of it first, and I told her that if she'd get the stuff I'd make the things. There now, run away home, it is time you were putting Margery to bed. No, I shall not tell you the colour," laughing, as she loosened Bella's arms which she had flung round her in her delight; "you will know to-morrow." "I hope it is pink," said Bella earnestly, eyeing her aunt closely, to see if she could read anything from her face, but Mrs. Langley only smiled. "Well, you will know by this time to-morrow. Now, run away, or they will be wondering what has become of you." "To-morrow is such a long way off," sighed Bella. "It'll never come!" To-morrow came, as all to-morrows do, and, to Bella's great delight, the frock turned out to be as pretty a pink as she could possibly desire. It was very simply made, with just a plain skirt and belted bodice, but when she saw it finished, and with little white collar and cuffs added, Bella thought it the prettiest frock she had ever seen in her life. Perhaps it was the prettiest she had ever possessed, for Aunt Emma did not understand that clothes could be pretty as well as serviceable, and most of poor Bella's frocks had been of heavy brown or black stuff, made without any trimming, and with never a vestige of white at neck or wrists,--a dainty finish which Bella loved the look of. In spite of the heat and the long walk in it, Bella waited impatiently for the following Saturday, and surely, she thought, never had a week been so long in passing. It was September now, but the weather was as hot and stifling as it had been in July. The days were shorter, and the sun went down earlier, but, apart from the sun, the oppressive heat lasted on throughout the nights, which were almost as trying as the day. The earlier summer flowers were over, and the drought had prevented the later ones from coming on well, so that it was difficult to get a good supply week by week. Bella and Tom no longer carried in the things from their own little gardens only, or they would often have found they had not enough to make it worth their while; but all contributed something that they had to sell, and it was quite a serious business to make up the accounts and divide the money when the little market-gardeners got home from market.