A Sweet Little Maid

by Amy Ella Blanchard

Then they laughed and ran in.

"Mamma," cried Dimple. "Auntie," cried Florence, "where are you?"

"Upstairs," she answered.

Up they ran. "Aren't you glad Rock is such a nice boy? Did you know boys could be so nice?" asked Dimple.

"I knew they could be, if they would."

"What makes Rock so gentle and kind and good?"

"Well, you see he lost his father when he was a very little boy, and as he had no brothers or sisters, he has been almost constantly with his mother, who is a very gentle, sweet woman."

"He doesn't seem silly, like some boys, either," said Florence. "I know a boy, we call him 'sissy,' he is so like a girl, and he is always whining, and afraid of cold, and afraid of sun, and afraid of everything."

"I shouldn't like that kind of boy," Dimple said. "Mamma, I call Rock my brother, and he calls me sister."

"Do you?" said her mother, smiling. "Now it is nearly dinner time, and if I am not mistaken, two little girls have left their new dolls, and all their scraps and things out on the porch."