"But that's just it--she doesn't understand. And it isn't as if they were poor," argued Cordelia, earnestly. "Now auntie has to make over things, of course, for me and for Edith and Rachel, and we expect it, and don't mind. We're all glad to be economical and help out, for we know it's necessary. But it's different with Elsie. She _says_ she wouldn't mind so, if they were poor and had to. But the Gales are real well off--Fannie and the twins have lots of new clothes. Poor Elsie says sometimes it seems as if her aunt actually bought things for them, so she _could_ make them over for her. Elsie says she's never so happy as when she's doing it, and that she makes a regular game of it--cutting them out and putting them together--like picture puzzles, you know." Genevieve laughed, though she frowned, too. "But what can I do?" she demanded. "I tried, once, to--to lend Elsie a dress; but she was horrified." "Mercy! Of course she was," shuddered Cordelia. "I don't know _what_ Mrs. Gale would do if she knew that! They're fearfully--er--er--proud, I suppose you call it," hesitated the conscientious Cordelia. "But what _can_ I do?" "I don't know; but don't you suppose you could--could say something, somehow, to Mrs. Gale that--that would make her understand?" "Why, Cordelia Wilson, of course I couldn't," gasped Genevieve, indignantly. "A pretty picture I'd make going to Mrs. Gale and saying: 'Madam, why don't you give your niece a new dress when you know she wants one?'" "N-no, I suppose you couldn't do that, of course," sighed the other. "Very likely you couldn't do anything, anyway. It's only that I thought--well, I knew you were going home with Elsie after school Monday night to study; and I didn't know but you'd get a chance to say something. But I suppose, after all, there won't be anything you could say." "No, I suppose there won't," echoed Genevieve, still plainly appalled at the task Cordelia had set for her. "Well, it's only that I was so sorry for Elsie," sighed Cordelia, as she rose to go. "Of course! I reckon we're all sorry for Elsie," sighed Genevieve in her turn. And she was sorry. All the rest of the morning she kept thinking how very sorry she was; and when afternoon came, and when she saw Elsie's lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears, as the others happily discussed whether they would wear colored sashes or white belts with their white dresses, Genevieve's heart quite overflowed with sympathy for Elsie. And she wondered if, after all, it were possible to make Elsie's aunt--understand. Determinedly, then, she declared to herself that, regardless of consequences, she would try--if she had the opportunity.