`` It 's sweet to sacrifice for one we love -- it 's sweet to have someone to sacrifice for , '' thought the Old Lady . Desire grows by what it feeds on . The Old Lady thought she was content ; but Friday evening came and found her in a perfect fever to see Sylvia in her party dress . It was not enough to fancy her in it ; nothing would do the Old Lady but seeing her . `` And I SHALL see her , '' said the Old Lady resolutely , looking out from her window at Sylvia 's light gleaming through the firs . She wrapped herself in a dark shawl and crept out , slipping down to the hollow and up the wood lane . It was a misty , moonlight night , and a wind , fragrant with the aroma of clover fields , blew down the lane to meet her . `` I wish I could take your perfume -- the soul of you -- and pour it into her life , '' said the Old Lady aloud to that wind . Sylvia Gray was standing in her room , ready for the party . Before her stood Mrs. Spencer and Amelia Spencer and all the little Spencer girls , in an admiring semi-circle . There was another spectator . Outside , under the lilac bush , Old Lady Lloyd was standing . She could see Sylvia plainly , in her dainty dress , with the pale pink roses Old Lady Lloyd had left at the beech that day for her in her hair . Pink as they were , they were not so pink as her cheeks , and her eyes shone like stars . Amelia Spencer put up her hand to push back a rose that had fallen a little out of place , and the Old Lady envied her fiercely . `` That dress could n't have fitted better if it had been made for you , '' said Mrs. Spencer admiringly . `` Ai n't she lovely , Amelia ? Who COULD have sent it ? '' `` Oh , I feel sure that Mrs. Moore was the fairy godmother , '' said Sylvia . `` There is nobody else who would .
It was dear XXXXX her -- she knew I wished so much to go to the party with Janet .
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