A Little Girl in Old Pittsburg

by Amanda M. Douglas

And away to the Maypole hie;

For every fair has a sweetheart there,

And the fiddlers standing by,

Then trip it, trip it, up and down."

And grandad did trip it merrily. It was fortunate for Norah that she was not jealous, but she enjoyed a bit of fun, and her arch smile, the merry flash of her eyes, with the color coming and going, made her very attractive. Dilly wished she was big enough to dance—her little feet kept patting the turf and keeping time with the fiddle.

"You're Daffodil Carrick, aren't you?" said a boyish voice almost in her ear.

She turned, startled, and her eyes were so lovely they fairly transfixed him, and she stared unconsciously.

She did not speak but nodded.

"I'm Ned Langdale. My mother was at your party and brought us home a piece of your birthday cake. She said you were seven and as pretty as a fairy, and I'm fourteen, just twice as old."

"Oh," she said, "that's funny. And will you always be twice as old."