"You're a little darling. Did Martha scold you?"
"No. It wasn't—some girls came along——" She tried very hard to stop her sobbing.
"There, dear, let me wash your face. Don't cry any more." She laid aside the bonnet and bathed the small face, then she began to brush the soft hair. It had not been cut all winter and was quite a curly mop. Stephen had bought her a round comb of which she was very proud.
"It was two girls. They went by and they laughed——"
Her voice was all of a quaver again, but she did not mean to cry if she could help it.
"Did they call you 'country'?"
Margaret smiled and kissed the little girl, who tried to smile also. Then she repeated the ill-bred comment.
"We are not quite citified," said Margaret cheerfully. "And it isn't pleasant to be laughed at for something you cannot well help. But all the little girls are wearing short dresses, and you are to have some new ones. Mother has gone out shopping, and next week cousin Cynthia Blackfan is coming to fix us all up. But I do hope, Hanny, you will have better manners and a kinder heart than to laugh at strangers, no matter if they are rather old-fashioned."
"I don't believe I ever will," said the little girl soberly.
"Now come up in my room. Mother said I might rip up her pretty blue plaid silk and have it made over. I came down to hunt up the waist."