“It ain’t the same thing in my class,” returned Florrie. “Teacher knows that girls of my age can’t be punctual like little ones. They’ve to clear away, and mind the children, and all sorts of things to do.”
“And what have you been clearing away?”
“And who have you been minding of?”
“And what have you had to do but put your fine hat on?” rose in a chorus from the indignant children; while another voice put in—
“When I went to school the elders came punctual for the sake of an example.”
“Oh my! Aunt Lizzie, I didn’t see you,” said Florrie. “How d’ye do? There’s plenty of examples nowadays if one wanted them, which I don’t.”
“I’m sure, Aunt Lizzie,” put in the eldest sister, a tall young woman of nineteen or so, “there isn’t harder work in the world than in trying to set an example to Florrie.”
“You don’t set a nice one,” said Florrie.
“It would be a deal better for you, Florence,” said her aunt, “if you did take example by some one. You’re getting a big girl, and that hat and frock are a deal too smart to run about the roads in. When I was a girl, I had a nice brown mushroom hat and a neat black silk jacket, and pleased enough I was with them as a new thing.”
“And did your aunts wear mushroom hats and black silk jackets?” said Florrie.