“This happened when I was a very little girl, dear. Do you remember,” mamma asked auntie, “that little lilac print dress I had when I was about five years old? It was such a pretty little dress.”
“I remember the dress very well, and what happened the first time you wore it,” laughed auntie.
“Yes, that’s the time I mean. Well, children, I had on this little new dress, of which I was very proud. It was an afternoon in early spring, and it was the first cambric dress that I had had on that season, so I felt particularly fine in it. Auntie Jean and I ran out to play. You remember, don’t you, children, how the house and barns at your grandfather’s are, and how steep the little hill back of the barn is? It was all green and grassy, and we loved to play there. Jean’s new dress was not quite finished, so she had on her regular little afternoon frock, and I felt prouder than ever of mine. I plumed myself so much, that finally Jean wouldn’t play with me. I know I made myself very disagreeable,” added mamma, smiling.
“There were barrels and boxes back of the barn, where we used to play house. I got up on one of the boxes, after a time, when Jean left me to myself, and I began jumping off it. Jean was arranging the play-house near by. The hill, with its short, green grass, looked very inviting to me, and presently I called to Jean, ‘I dare jump off this box, and roll right down the hill over and over.’
“‘I wouldn’t,’ Jean said, very pleasantly, ‘you might spoil your new dress.’ She really meant to advise me not to do it, but I thought that she meant that I was afraid of my new frock.
“‘Yes, I dare, too, and I will,’ I said, and off I jumped and rolled sideways down the hill, over and over. It had rained in the night, and, though the hill was dry, the water had collected in a little hollow at the foot, which I did not notice on account of the grass. Through this I rolled, splash.”
“Just like me,” remarked Cricket, with much interest. “Eunice says I’d tumble into the water, if there wasn’t a saucerful around.”
“Yes, very much like you,” returned mamma, smiling. “When I got up, my pretty little lilac frock, of course, was all draggled and stained.”
“What an object you looked!” laughed auntie, “and how angry you were!”
“Yes,” said mamma, laughing, also. “That was the funny part of it. I was so angry, but I’m sure I don’t know who with. I felt that somebody was very much to blame, but I wasn’t at all willing to say that that somebody was my naughty little self. I got up, and looked down at my dress. Then I called out angrily, ‘See what you’ve done, Jean Maxwell,’ as I stood at the foot of the hill. Jean looked at me as I came climbing up, scolding all the way, and then she burst out laughing. I suppose I was a very funny object, but I didn’t feel funny at all.”