"I don't want him to see it this way," she said, "for he'd say it's a sin to have curly, pretty hair, even if God made it grow that way! He's awful queer! I wouldn't want him for my adopted brother." "Guess he'd keep you hopping," laughed David. "Guess I'd keep him hopping, too," retorted Phœbe, at which the boy laughed. "Now what do I do?" he asked when all the hair was untangled. "Part it in the middle and make two plaits." "Um-uh." The boy's clumsy fingers fumbled long with the parting; several times the braids twisted and had to be undone, but after a struggle he was able to announce, "There now, you're fixed! Now you're Phœbe Metz, no more prima donna!" "Thanks, David, for helping me. I feel much better around the head--guess curls would be a nuisance after all." CHAPTER VII "WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET" WHEN Phœbe adopted Mother Bab she did so with the whole-heartedness and finality characteristic of her blood. Mother Bab--the name never ceased to thrill the erstwhile motherless girl whose yearning for affection and understanding had been unsatisfied by the matter-of-fact Aunt Maria. At first Maria Metz did not seem too well pleased with the child's persistent naming of Barbara Eby as Mother Bab; but gradually, as she saw Phœbe's joy in the adoption, the woman acknowledged to herself that another woman was capable of mothering where she had failed. Phœbe spent many hours in the little house on the hill, learning from Mother Bab many things that made indelible impressions upon her sensitive child-heart, unraveling some of the tangled knots of her soul, stirring anew hopes and aspirations of her being. But there remained one knot to be untangled--she could not understand why the plain dress and white cap existed, she could not reconcile the utter simplicity of dress with the lavish beauty of the birds, flowers--all nature. "It will come," Mother Bab assured her one day. "You are a little girl now and cannot see into everything. But when you are older you will see how beautiful it is to live simply and plainly." "But is it necessary, Mother Bab?" the child cried out. "Must I dress like you and Aunt Maria if I want to be good?" "No, you don't _have_ to. Many people are good without wearing the plain garb. A great many people in the world never heard of the plain sects we have in this section of the country, and there are good people everywhere, I'm sure of that. But it is just as true that each person must find the best way to lead a good life. If you can wear fine clothes and still be good and lead a Christian life, then there is no harm in the pretty clothes. But for me the easiest way to be living right is to live as simply as I can. This is the way for me."