"How clever you are," she said, "I wish you were my brother, really and truly, Rock."
"Well, we will pretend I am," said he. "What shall I put in your basket, sister?"
They all laughed.
"I don't think it will hold much, but Rubina can put her work in it. See, if I pin her arm up so, she can hold it nicely. There! I must go and show it to mamma. I'll tell her to adopt you," she called back, as she ran off.
"Now I must clear up my scraps," said Rock, as he put the finishing touches to the other basket.
"Mamma says I may gather you some flowers," said Dimple, coming out again with a pair of shears in her hand, "and she says you are a very nice boy, a very nice boy indeed."
Rock laughed. "She wouldn't think so sometimes," said he. "I don't believe she wants to change children with my mother."
"I hope she doesn't want to," said Dimple, then added quickly, "Not that I don't think your mother is real nice, Rock, but you know I am so used to mine, and she is so used to me."
"Of course," said Rock, laughing again. "I didn't mean they would change, or even think of it."
"Now let's get the flowers," said Dimple; "you are to choose just which you like best, Rock," she said, leading the way to the flower-beds. "The pansies are almost gone, but there are plenty of roses yet, and verbenas, and mignonette, and lots of things."