Peggy in Her Blue Frock

THEY TOOK THEIR SNOW-SHOVELS AND TRIED TO MAKE A PATH TO THE HEN-HOUSE (page 136)

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY ELIZA ORNE WHITE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED INCLUDING THE RIGHT TO REPRODUCE THIS BOOK OR PARTS THEREOF IN ANY FORM PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO MY YOUNG COUSINS CORNELIA AND CAROL

Peggy, with flying yellow hair, was climbing the high stepladder in the library, getting down books for her mother to pack. She skipped up the stepladder as joyously as a kitten climbs a tree. Everything about Peggy seemed alive, from her gray eyes that met one’s glance so fearlessly, to her small feet that danced about the room between her trips up and down the stepladder. Her skirts were very short, and her legs were very long and thin, so that she reminded one of a young colt kinking up its heels for a scamper about the pasture.
“Peggy, you will break your neck if you are not careful,” said her grandmother. “And don’t throw the books down in that way; see how carefully Alice puts them down.”
Alice smiled at the compliment and showed her dimples. She was a pretty little thing with brown hair and big brown eyes. She was two years younger than her sister Peggy, and was as small for her age as Peggy was large for hers. She was taking the books from the lowest shelf, as she was afraid to climb the stepladder.
“I’ll risk Peggy’s neck,” said her mother, as Peggy once more skipped up the stepladder.
This time she put the books down more carefully.
The family were moving from the large, old-fashioned house where the children had been born to a very small one, more than a mile farther from the village. Peggy and Alice were greatly interested in the moving. Their father’s mother had come all the way from New York to help about it.