Leslie was a bit quiet as they glided down the road out of town, and kept eyeing her aunt silently. At last, as Julia Cloud was calling attention to a wonderful red woodbine that had twined itself about an old dead tree and was setting the roadside ablaze with splendor, Leslie caught her eye.
"What is it, dear? Does something trouble you? Is anything wrong with me?" asked Julia Cloud, putting up a prospecting hand to her hair and hat.
Leslie's cheeks went rosy red.
"O Cloudy, dear," said Leslie, "I was just wondering. But I'm afraid to say it. Maybe it will make you feel bad."
"Not a bit, deary; what is it?"
"Well, then, Cloudy, do you think Grandmother would care very much if you didn't wear black? Do you like it yourself, or feel it wouldn't be right not to wear it? I don't mean any disrespect to Grandmother; but oh, you would look so sweet in gray, gray and lavender and soft pink, or just gray now for a while. Are you very mad at me for saying it?"
Julia Cloud reached over and patted the young hand that lay near her on the seat.
"Why, no, dear! I'm not mad, and I don't care for black myself. I don't believe in wearing black for the people who have left us and gone to heaven. It seems to me white would be a great deal better. But I put on these things to please Ellen. She thought it would be showing great disrespect to mother if I didn't, and rather than argue about it I did as she wanted me to. But I don't intend to darken the place around me by dressing in mourning, child; and I'm glad you don't want me to. I like bright, happy things. And, besides, Leslie, dear, your grandmother was a bright, happy woman herself once when she was young, before she was sick and had trouble; and I like to remember her that way, because I'm sure that is the way she looks now in heaven."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" sighed Leslie. "That makes the day just perfect."
"I think I'll wait until I get away to change, however," said Julia Cloud thoughtfully. "It would just annoy Ellen to do it now, and might make such people as Mrs. Perkins say disagreeable things that would make it unpleasant for your aunt."
"Of course!" said Leslie, nestling closer, her eyes dancing with some secret plans of her own. "That's all right, Cloudy. How dear and sort of 'understanding' you are, just like a real mother."