RUFFLES AND PUFFS.

She stood looking down upon her neat plaid dress with a very dissatisfied face.

"Mamma," she said, "why can't I wear pretty clothes every day like Irene Clarke? She always has puffs and ruffles, and her aprons are trimmed so nice."

Mamma finished buttoning the tippet and tied down the snug little hat.

"Puffs and ruffles and dainty aprons are nice," she replied gently. "Mamma likes pretty things as well as Lou, but always in their place, dearie."

But mamma's words did not help. Little Lou went out with the same dissatisfied face.

"They say mammas know best," she spoke. "It's funny, though. Irene's mamma knows a different best from mine—O, there she is!" and Lou hurried

LOU.

It chanced that Irene wore a fresh suit, one that Lou had never seen. Delightedly she spied the dainty robe.

"Ain't that sweet!" she exclaimed, and feasted

"O, see—see!" she cried excitedly, half-running, half-crawling after the bug, "see this funny thing! I can't catch him! But, O my—ain't he cunnin'! Irene, do get down here and see!"

Irene took a step forward, then stood still.

"I can't," she said, "I might soil my dress."

But Lou scarcely heard. She was absorbed in the funny bug. On she went trying to catch him, till finally he slipped round a tree-root and was seen no more.

Back came Lou to Irene brushing the dirt from her frock.

"It's cold standin' here," she said, "let's play tag."

"I can't," spoke Irene again, "I might trip and soil my dress."

Lou's eyes went up and down the dainty robe. "It isn't much of a tag-frock," she thought. But she was a restless maid. Between hopping and dancing she glanced up at the sky and exclaimed:

"I guess it'll snow to-night. If it does, come over

But Irene shook her head.

"I'd like to," she replied, "but mamma won't let me. I haven't a dress that's fit."

Lou's face gleamed with surprise.

"O, my!" she said, "can't you ever take a hill-ride, or build a snow-man, or—" but Irene looked so sober that Lou's sympathies awoke. "Never mind," she added, "you'll come up to your grandpa's again in the summer; then you'll wear do-up clothes, and we'll have lots of fun."

"The do-up clothes are the worst," replied Irene sadly. "Mamma don't want them soiled."

Lou looked down at her plaid frock; she thought of the plentiful ginghams at home. Suddenly she turned and rushed headlong back to mamma.

"O my!" she began, "Irene Clarke can't have no fun! She ain't got no slide-dresses, she can't soil her do-up clothes, and—O my! mamma—it's all them ruffles and puffs! I wouldn't wear 'em for the world! No, I just wouldn't!"

Mamma could but smile.

"I am glad my little girl has changed," she said. "I feared, a while ago, that because she could not

The free little out-of-doors girl blushed; and then she could have hugged her plaid frock for very joy.