Then Cleena went hurriedly out of the room. The frock which she had prepared for Amy's use in the mill was remodelled from an old one of her mistress's. As has been said, Amy had never worn any sort of dress except white. The fabric was changed to suit the season, but the color was not. Even her warm winter cloak was of heavy white wool, faced here and there with scarlet, to match the simple scarlet headgear that suited her dark face so well. Quite against the habits of her own upbringing, Mrs. Kaye had clothed her daughter to please the taste of her artist husband, and therefore it had not greatly mattered that this taste dictated a style more fanciful than useful. Now everything was altered, and Cleena had consulted Mrs. Jones with the result just given. But from a true delicacy, the faithful old servant did not stay to watch the girl as she adopted the new garb which belonged to the new fortunes, though she need not have been afraid. For a moment Amy held the gray dress in her hand, feeling it almost a sacrilege to put it on. She remembered it as the morning gown of her mother, plain to the extreme, yet graceful and precious in her sight because of the dear wearer. Then she lifted the garment to her lips, and touched it lightly. "Mother, darling, it is a good beginning. It seems to me it is like a sister of mercy putting on her habit for the first time. It is a protection and a benediction. If I can only put on my mother's beautiful character with her clothing, I shall do well, indeed." Then she examined the alterations which Cleena had been instructed by the cottager to make, and was able to smile at them. "The new sewing and the old do not match very well, but it will answer, and it does fit me much better than I would have thought. My! but I must already be as large, or nearly so, as she was. Well, no time for thinking back now. It's all looking forward, and must be, if I am to keep my courage." Then she knelt beside her bed, prayed simply and in full faith for success in her efforts to provide for her beloved ones, and went below, smiling and gay. "Think of it, Cleena Keegan. This is Monday morning. On seventh day I expect to bring back two splendid dollars and put into your hands. I, just I, your own little Amy. Think of the oatmeal it will buy." It was not in Cleena's heart to dampen this ardor by remarking how small a sum two dollars really was, considered in the light of a family support; and, after all, oatmeal was cheap. Fortunately, it also formed the principal diet of this plainly nurtured household, and even that very breakfast to which the young breadwinner now sat down. But the meal was exquisitely cooked, and the hot milk was rich and sweet. Also, there lay, neatly wrapped in a spotless napkin, the mid-day luncheon, which Cleena had been told to prepare, and which Mrs. Jones suggested should be of something "hearty and strong" for "working in the mill beats all for appetite."