They went out on the shady back stoop afterward. Janey was sewing the over-seam in a sheet that her mother wanted turned. When she had finished, and picked out the old sewing, she was free. Then she said they would go down to the Bristows' and have a good game of hide and seek. They always had such fun at the Bristows'.
Polly brought out her basket of carpet-rags,—a peach basket nearly full.
"I just hate to sew carpet-rags!" she declared.
"Couldn't I help you?" asked Hanny.
"Why, to be sure you could, if you would, and knew how to sew."
"Of course I know how to sew," said Hanny, rather affronted.
"Oh, I was only in fun! I'll find you a thimble. It's in my work-box that was given me on Christmas. It's real silver, too. Mother's going to change it when she goes to New York, only she never remembers. My fingers are so fat. Oh, Hanny, what a little mite of a hand! It'll never be good for anything."
"I have made a whole shirt myself, and I have hemstitched, and done embroidery, and I wipe dishes when I haven't too many lessons," interposed the little girl.
"You can't make your own frocks," in a tone of triumph.
"No. Miss Cynthia Blackfan comes and does it. Can you?"