"May I come with you and Lilly?" entreated little Claudia, running down the walk at full speed, and putting her curly head through the palings to make the request.
"Yes, come on. You and Lily can pick up some nice smooth burrs to make baskets of. But where is your bonnet?" "I forgot it." She ran up, almost out of breath, and seized Beulah's hand.
"You forgot it, indeed! You little witch, you will burn as black as a gypsy!"
"I don't care if I do. I hate bonnets."
"Take care, Claudy; the President won't have you all freckled and tanned."
"Won't he?" queried the child, with a saucy sparkle in her black eyes.
"That he won't. Here, tie on my hood, and the next time you come running after me bareheaded, I will make you go back; do you hear?"
"Yes, I hear. I wonder why Miss Dorothy don't bleach off her freckles; she looks like a—"
"Hush about her, and run on ahead."
"Do, pray, let me get my breath first. Which way are we going?"