‘Aunt Bee,’ said Sally quickly, ‘Aunt Bee. She was good. She was the best in the world.’
‘I think so,’ said Mother.
‘And so do I,’ said Sally.
CHAPTER VII
A PRESENT FOR AUNT BEE
Sally was planning a present for Aunt Bee.
‘I want to give Aunt Bee a present because she is so good,’ said Sally, ‘but I haven’t anything to give. I could give her my blue handkerchief, I suppose, only it has washed almost white. Or perhaps I might give her the little thimble in my workbox, because I don’t like to sew very well. Do you think she would like my thimble for a present, Mother? Tell me what you think.’
‘I don’t believe your thimble would fit Aunt Bee’s finger,’ was Mother’s answer.
‘I wish I could sell papers like little boys in the city,’ said Sally next. ‘Then I would have pennies, more than I could count. But I can’t do anything at all, and I do want to give a present to my Aunt Bee.’
‘Why, yes, you can do something, Sally,’ said Mother, with a smile. ‘You can sweep. You know how you like to sweep with your little broom. Now every day that you sweep the doorstep clean, I will give you a penny for it. Don’t you think you could do that?’
‘Will you really give me a penny?’ asked Sally, hopping about for joy. ‘Will you, Mother? I will sweep the doorstep as clean as a pin. I will sweep it this very minute, too. Only, will it be a new penny?’ asked Sally, who liked shining gold ones far better than dingy brown.