"If she were my child," she said, "I should dress her in brown gingham down to her heels, and tie her hair with shoe-laces."
I gasped, and mother laughed.
"She's vain," grandmother went on, severely. "Suppose she should grow up a poppet!"
I carried that awful name out with me as I climbed upon the gate, and stared out, bashfully, at the street. I was afraid to think how beautiful I might be.
The grocer's boy came by, my own particular grocer's boy. Stricken with sudden admiration for my charms he put down his basket, and expressed his sentiments.
"Say, you are a daisy!" he said.
"Go away, Jakie," I answered, with embarrassment. "I haven't time to play with you now. Go away! I'm busy."
He was quite crushed by my new haughtiness, and lingered about, thinking that I would relent, but all my smiles and flowers were waiting for that bent figure which I loved so well.