"Now, look here!" responded Miss Barry. "Where is this going to stop? I understand Blanche Aurora better than any one else does. Doesn't Linda suppose I take any care of her? She's high-headed enough by nature. She needs a strong hand, and I've held a tight rein over her on principle. She's a loud, stubborn, willful young one who thinks she knows it all." "I'm not sure, I'm not sure," replied Mrs. Porter. "I kept her here nights while you were gone and I used to read to her in the evening--'Little Women' and 'Heidi,' and so on. She was very gentle and nice and seemed to enjoy it." Miss Barry sighed. "I've had her two summers with me. This makes the third. I've taught her quite a little about cooking and I've nearly lost my immortal soul doing it; and I've taught her to be neat. Yes, Blanche Aurora's neat. I ain't afraid to eat after her. I've taught her to take proper care of herself, to brush her teeth and to use plenty of soap. I _give_ her plenty of soap; and such things are enough to give her. This!" Miss Barry picked up a fold of the soft pink and rubbed its thinness between her fingers. "Why, she'll catch it on a nail the first day and it'll be in slithers in no time, and her taste for good tough calico will be gone too." "There's plenty of pink calico," suggested Mrs. Porter. "It's color that makes the difference to a child." Miss Barry continued to regard the zephyr gingham gloomily. That frenzied defiance, "Pink's happiness," seemed to sound again in her ears. "Linda's just going to fill the child's head full of notions and make her discontented," she declared. "Perhaps she has been more discontented than you realized," suggested Mrs. Porter. "Anyway, Miss Barry," she added, stopping the machine and looking up, "I fancy we are more interested in Linda than in any one else just now. Aren't we?" "Well, of course, we are," acknowledged Miss Barry grudgingly, realizing whither the admission tended. "To provide her with a wholesome interest is no small matter." Miss Barry sniffed. "I don't know how wholesome it is. Blanche Aurora's as insubordinate a young one as ever lived. I'd hate to have her think any more of herself than she does already. All these expensive clothes now, and then next winter, nothing. That ain't going to help her mother any." "That black-and-white checked suit can be made warm," returned Mrs. Porter, beginning to stitch the hem of the pink dress. "What started her on it, anyway?" asked Miss Barry. "'Taint a mite like anything I ever knew of Linda." Mrs. Porter smiled at her work for a silent space.