A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia

by Amanda M. Douglas

"Oh, yes! and wafers and gingerbread, and real Dutch doughnuts."

Primrose glanced around, elated. Her birthday treat was to be a success.

So they sat and refreshed themselves and jested, with Primrose in her sunniest mood, while the sun dropped lower and lower and burnished the river.

"I wonder if there are many violets in the woods."

"Oh, yes, indeed!" answered the woman. "It's rather early for many people to come and I am out of the way until they begin to sail up and down the river; that's when it is warmer, though to-day has been fine enough."

"Suppose we go and gather the violets," suggested Philemon.

"Of course we expect you to go, don't we, Polly? But then we are going also."

"Won't it be wet?"

"Not with that little sprinkle!" cried Primrose disdainfully.

There were dozens of pretty spring things in the woods, but violets were enough. Large bluish-purple ones, down to almost every gradation. Then Betty thought of an old-time verse and Lieutenant Vane of another.