“Yes, even there. I want to go somewhere. I think I should enjoy myself a little anywhere. I should like to see the people, and hear them talk, and find out what they do, and wear an evening dress.” Dolly gazed at her in mingled pity and bewilderment. “Mollie,” she said, “you are very innocent; and I always knew you were very innocent; but I did not know you were as innocent as this,--so utterly free from human guile that you could imagine pleasure in a Bilberry rejoicing. And I believe,” still regarding her with that questioning pity, “--I believe you really _could_. I must keep an eye on you, Mollie. You are too unsophisticated to be out of danger.” It was characteristic of her good-natured sympathy for the girl that it should occur to her the next minute that perhaps it might please her to see herself donned even in such modest finery as the white merino. She understood her simple longings after unattainable glories so thoroughly, and she was so ready to amuse her to the best of her ability. So she suggested it. “Put it on, Mollie,” she said, “and let us see how you would look in it. I should like to see you in full dress.” The child rose with some faint stir of interest in her manner and went to the bed. “It wouldn't be long enough for me if it wasn't for the train,” she said; “but the train will make it long enough nearly, and I can pull it together at the waist.” She put it on at the bedside, and then came forward to the toilet-table; and Dolly, catching sight of her in the glass as she advanced, turned round with a start. Standing in the light; the soft heavy white folds draping themselves about her statuesque curves of form as they might have draped themselves about the limbs of some young marble Grace or Goddess, with her white arms and shoulders uncovered, with her unchildish yet youthful face, with her large-irised eyes, her flush of momentary pleasure and half awkwardness, she was just a little dazzling, and Dolly did not hesitate to tell her so. “You are a beauty, Mollie,” she said. “And you are a woman in that dress. If you were only a Bilberry now, what a capital your face would be to you, and what a belle you would be!” Which remarks, if indiscreet, were affectionate, and made in perfect good faith. But when, having donned the merino herself, she made her way down the dark staircase to the parlor, there was a vague ghost of uneasiness in her mind, and it was the sight of Mollie in full dress which had aroused it. “She is so very pretty,” she said to herself. “I scarcely knew how very pretty she was until I turned round from the glass to look at her. What a pity it is that we are not rich enough to do her justice, and let her enjoy herself as other girls do. And--and,” with a little sigh, “I am afraid we are a dreadfully careless lot. I wonder if Phil ever thinks about it? And she is so innocent and ignorant too. I hope she won't fall in love with anybody disreputable. I wish I knew how to take care of her.”