"You know a good many things, don't you, Hanny?" said Janey, admiringly.
Hanny coloured.
"I can beat her all out running, I know; and I'll bet a penny she can't jump over the creek."
"And don't you dare her to, Polly. Remember how you fell in. Oh, Hanny, she was a sight to behold!"
"Well—it had been raining, and the ground was soft, so I slipped a little on the start. But I've done it time and again."
"And you're a regular tomboy. Girls don't train around that way in the city."
Janey had begun to rip out the old seam. She sighed a little, and wished she was sewing carpet-rags. That was such easy work.
"Hanny sews a great deal faster than you," she said to Polly. "See what a pile she has. I will wind them up."
It made quite a ball, and was a little rest from the ripping, that sounded so easy and yet was tedious. But Janey persevered, and finally, after turning about a time or two, came to the middle with a sigh of relief. Polly had been working like a steam-engine for ten minutes, and picked out a good many long pieces, so she had a ball as large as Hanny's.
Then they put on their sun-bonnets, and ran down to the Bristows', which was in the turn of the road. There were three girls,—one of nine who was almost as big as Hanny, and the one of eleven, much taller.