BERTHA. 67

Aunt Joanna drew the little girl into the library; here she
‘took her on her lap, and passed her hand lovingly over the
curly hair, which never would lie smooth, with all grand-
mamma’s efforts.

“Now, dearie, just tell me what gave you that woe-begone

face,” said the dear old lady, tenderly.

The great tears stood in Bertha’s eyes as it was finally
drawn from her that she felt queer and awkward in her dress,
and that she had overheard the slighting remarks upon her
costume.
| “Poor little girlie!” said Aunt Joanna, kissing her.
“never mind, dear; the little girls were very rude to speak so
of any one.’

“But you don’t know,” Bertha went on, “how hard it is;
and I should like so much if I only once could wear a real
party dress and have a sash. I know grandmamma would call
it folly, and say I should not care for such things, but it would
be such a comfort to be like other little girls just once.” And
she put her curly head down on Aunt Joanna’s shoulder.

“Well, dear, you shall,” said Aunt Joanna, with determi-
nation. “I havea plan.” And she unfolded it to Bertha, so
that when ten o’clock came, and the little girl was called for by
the old coachman, after being carefully wrapped up by Aunt
Joanna, it was with a very glad little heart that she kissed
her good-by, and nodded a smiling “Yes” to Aunt Joanna’s
“Remember, next Friday.”