“A fright, isn't it? If I ever got time, I could black it, or ink it, or something, but I never shall get the time. I don't wonder you look at it—everybody does.” “Oh!” Gloria hurried apologetically, “I didn't mean to be rude! I was just trying to make up my mind what was in it.”
“Well, did you?” The face of the small, neat person bubbled with soft laughter. Her hand went out and stroked the old bag's sides affectionately. “Give you three guesses!”
“I don't need but one!” laughed Gloria. A pleasant little intimacy seemed already established between the two of them.
“Well, guess one, then?”
“A—jimmy!”
“Gracious!” laughed the Small Person. “Do I look as bad as that? No,” growing suddenly quite grave, “you will have to guess again. I'll give you a cue—absorbent cotton.”
“Absorb—” began Gloria in surprise, but stopped. The bag was open under her eyes. She caught a confused glimpse of bottles and rolls of something carefully done up in white tissue, of a dark blue pasteboard box with a red cross on the visible end, of curiously-shaped scissors.
“See any jimmy?” queried the one beside her.
