“Yes, of course,” her mother said, smiling. “You can pretend our big walnut tree is a department store and shop all you want.”
“Well——” Daisy began, and then realizing that the recommendation of the walnut tree was only a suggestion, and not a command, she said, “Well, thank you, mamma,” and ran outdoors, swinging her brown straw hat by its elastic cord. The interview had taken place in the front hall, and Mrs. Hears watched the lively little figure for a moment as it was silhouetted against the ardent sunshine at the open doors; then she turned away, smiling, and for the rest of the morning her serene thought of Daisy was the picture of a ladylike child playing quietly near the walnut tree in the front yard.
Daisy skipped out to the gate, but upon the public sidewalk, just beyond, she moderated her speed and looked as important as she could, assuming at once the rôle she had selected in the little play she was making up as she went along. In part, too, her importance was meant to interest Elsie Threamer, who was standing in graceful idleness by the hedge that separated the Threamers’ yard from the sidewalk.
“Where you goin’, Daisy?” the angelic neighbour inquired.
Daisy paused and tried to increase a distortion of her face, which was her conception of a businesslike concentration upon “shopping.” “What?” she inquired, affecting absent-mindedness.
“Where you goin’?”
“I haf to go shopping to-day, Elsie.”
Elsie laughed. “No, you don’t.”
“I do, too. I go shopping almost all the time lately. I haf to.”
“You don’t, either,” Elsie said. “You don’t either haf to.”