"Oh, Davie, wouldn't it be great! But I wouldn't beautify my face with cream and beet juice and flour!" They laughed so heartily that Aunt Maria turned and asked the cause of the merriment. "We were just speaking of the time when I dressed in the garret and fixed my face--the time you had the quilting party." "Ach," Aunt Maria said, smiling in the darkness. "You looked dreadful that day. I was good and mad at you! But I'm glad you're big enough now not to do such dumb things. My, now that you're done with school and will stay home with me we can have some nice times sewin' and quiltin' and makin' rugs, ain't, Phœbe?" In the semi-darkness of the carriage Phœbe looked at David. The appealing wistfulness of her face touched him. He patted her arm reassuringly and whispered to her, "Don't you worry. It'll come out all right. Mother Bab will help you." CHAPTER IX A VISIT TO MOTHER BAB THE next day as Phœbe walked up the hill to visit Mother Bab she went eagerly and with an unusual light in her eyes--she had transformed her schoolgirl braid into the coiffure of a woman! The golden hair was parted in the middle, twisted into a shapely knot in the nape of her neck, and the effect was highly satisfactory, she thought. "Mother Bab will be surprised," she said gladly as she swung up the hill in rapid, easy strides. "And David--I wonder what David will say if he's home." At the summit of the hill she paused and turned, looked back at the gray farmhouse and beyond it to the little town of Greenwald. "I just must stand here a minute and look! I love this view from the hill." She breathed deeply and continued to revel in the beauty of the scene. At the foot of the hill was the Metz farm nestling in its green surroundings. Like a tan ribbon the dusty road went winding past green fields, then hid itself as it dipped into a valley and made a sharp curve, though Phœbe knew that it went on past more fields and meadows to the town. Where she stood she had a view of the tall spires of Greenwald churches straggling through the trees, and the red and slate roofs of comfortable houses gleaming in the sunlight. Beyond and about the town lay fields resplendent in the pristine freshness of May greenery. "Oh," she said aloud after a long gaze, "this is glorious! But I must hurry to Mother Bab. I'm wild to have her see me. Aunt Maria just said when I showed her my hair, 'Yes well, Phœbe, I guess you're old enough to wear your hair up.' Mother Bab is different. Sometimes I pity Aunt Maria and wonder what kind of childhood she had to make her so grim about some things."