In came Miss Liza, while Grandfather drove on to the barn, and to Susan’s delight Miss Liza carried a big bundle which she placed in the little girl’s outstretched arms.
“It’s Flip,” Susan repeated joyfully. “I know it’s Flip. It’s my Flip.”
Yes, it was Flip, but a Flip so changed, so beautified, so transformed that only the members of her own family would have known her.
In the first place, her face and hands, which had grown a dingy brown, had become several shades lighter, producing a fresh, youthful appearance heretofore sorely lacking. Her bald head had blossomed out in a beautiful crop of worsted hair, in color a rich garnet-brown.
“Miss Lunette always used that color for her worsted hens,” Miss Liza explained, “and I thought it would make real pretty-looking hair for Flip.”
Susan was delighted with the effect. She smiled radiantly at Miss Liza. But when she examined her child’s complete new wardrobe, she put Flippy down on the couch, and flung her arms first around Miss Liza and then about Grandmother’s neck.
For Flippy wore a new set of underwear, even to a red flannel petticoat trimmed with red crocheted lace. She wore a brown cloth dress, elaborately decorated with yellow feather-stitching. But, most beautiful of all, about her sloping shoulders was a dark-blue cape, lined with scarlet satin and edged with narrow black fur; upon her head was tied a dark-blue fur-trimmed cap to match, from under which her garnet worsted hair peeped coyly; and, oh, crowning touch! about her neck upon a ribbon hung a black fur muff.
Susan’s excitement and delight were such that even Thanksgiving dinner seemed of little importance compared with this unexpected trousseau of Flippy Whiting. Susan did manage to sit still in her chair at the table, but she turned every moment or two to smile happily upon Flip, who returned her glances with proud and conscious looks.
“One square inch of turkey for Miss Susan Whiting,” announced Grandfather, when at last her turn came to be served, “and a thimbleful of mashed potato, one crumb of bread, and an acorn cup of milk. And that is all the dinner you get, if I have anything to say about it.”
And Grandfather brandished the carving knife and looked so severe that Susan went off into a fit of laughter in which every one joined.