“How do you get on, Owlet?” inquired Roma.
“Oh, splendid! I have nearly used up all the scraps I have got.”
“And what will you do when you get through?”
“Oh, then I mean to put my squares away until I can get more scraps, and take hold and help Hera to make her rag carpet,” said the child, laying her brilliant wilderness down on her lap and smoothing it out.
“Rag carpet?” echoed Miss Fronde.
“Yes. I’ll tell you all about it. You gather up all the old rags you can find, and wash them clean, and dry them dry, and then you cut ’em into strips and sew the strips together and wind ’em into big balls, and when you have got enough you put it in a loom and weave it into a carpet.”
“Oh!”
“Yes. It isn’t such a pretty work as the sensible quilt, but is so saving and so useful. I can’t weave, but I certainly can cut strips and sew ’em together, and wind ’em up into balls.”
“Ducky is nearly as old as you are. Do you try to teach her to sew?”
“No. It’s no use. You can’t do it. She can’t learn. Ducky Darling is as sweet as sugar, but—I’m afraid—she is not possessed of common sense.”