The more she thought about it, the better the idea pleased her. Just as she was endeavoring to decide upon something definite to do, she was startled by seeing a board in the fence, just behind her, pushed aside. Before she could move, a round, fat, little face was thrust through the opening, and a pair of inquisitive brown eyes were fastened upon her. For a moment they looked, and then the owner squeezed through, and stood still, eyeing Flora complacently.
"Well, and who are you? and what do you mean by coming in here that way?" asked Flora, amused at the odd-looking little creature.
"I'm Jem," answered the midget, coolly; "and I didn't mean nuffing."
"Jem? I thought you were a girl," said Flora, looking at the quaint, short-waisted dress, that reached almost down to the copper toed shoes, and the funny, little, short white apron, tied just under the fat arms, which were squeezed into sleeves much too tight for them.
"So I am a girl," answered Jem, indignantly; "don't you see I've gut a napron on wif pockets in?" And she thrust her chubby little fingers into one of them.
"But you said your name was 'Jem,' and that's a boy's name," persisted Flora, enjoying her odd companion.
"'Tain't none," was the sententious reply; "it's short for 'Jemima'; that's what my really name is."
"Well, Jemima, what do you want in here?"
"Nuffing."
"Nothing? Well, that isn't in here."