“Her? You mean them, don’t you? I think there will be many Miss Morning-Glories in that box before very long.”
Cassy shook her head.
“No, I mean her.” She spoke a little shyly. “She is a new friend. I made her up like—like a story, you know, and she likes all the things I do. She is here now; she walked home with me, and she plays with me at recess. She likes to watch the ants, and the flies, and the bees.”
Her mother looked a little startled. She was not quite sure if this imaginary friend was a wise companion for her little girl, yet since she did exist in Cassy’s world of fancy, there was nothing to do but let her stay there.
“I call her Miss Morning-Glory,” Cassy went on. “She wears the same colored dresses the morning-glories do. To-day she has on a pink one.”
“What does she look like?” inquired Mrs. Law, thinking it would be best not to discourage the confidence.
“She isn’t a bit like me,” Cassy replied. “She has lovely blue eyes and pink cheeks and golden hair all in curls, not tight curls, but the kind that angels have.”
“What do you know about angels’ curls?” her mother asked, laughing.
“Why, the pictures tell,” Cassy returned, surprised at such a question. “You know the Christmas card I have with the angel on it; that kind of curls I mean.”
“And what is Miss Morning-Glory doing now?”