"Why not? Ward women have always cleaned up nice. There. Don't you look smashin'?" Lottie remarked as Anne twirled about the front room in a flutter of wool. "I wasn't sure what the girls wear these days, but the lady at the shop helped. "Stop dancin' a moment so I can get a proper look." Up, down. "Do you like that colour of green?"

"Like it? Why I love it!" said Anne, following Mrs. Blacke's instruction and basking in all the attention. "It's just me favourite colour. I remember mum 'ad a skirt like this. Well, not like this, I suppose, but this colour. Her nice one for Sunday. Do ye remember, Mrs. Blacke?"

It was strange what morsels of the past children remembered with absolute clarity. There had been so much living done since Hannah was with them.

"I'm afraid I don't. But I'm sure yer right. Ye lookin' more and more like her every day"

Anne smiled warmly at Mrs. Blacke, though there was a subtle sadness in her eyes. "I take that as a compliment. Da' used to say she could 'ave married a prince with 'er looks." Anne looked down at herself and spun round. "I wish she were 'ere to see me."

"I miss 'er too. She'd be so proud of ye" Lottie said. How could she be sure of what a dead person would think. Still, it was a nice sentiment.