"Aw, but you're downright stupid, Tibbie. I don't mind telling you I'm disappointed. You're just a common, every-day sort of young one, with no idear of grandness in your idears at all. And you don't seem to keep a hold on more than one notion at a time. First it's a dollar. Is that pink and blue? And next it's marbles. Is marbles worth a dollar apiece? Now tell me what's the grandest, prettiest thing that ever you saw—"
"... Angels."
"D' you ever see any?"
"In the church window, painted."
"Well, this is as handsome as a hundred angels, less than a foot tall, all in new clothes, with little hats on."
"Sally, I think I know now. Only it couldn't be that. There couldn't likely be a hundred of them all together, for, oh, Sally, it isn't a store we are going to! You didn't tell me it was a store."
"No more it is. We're going straight to Mrs. Darling's house, and no place but there. Here's where we get off."
The big girl, with the small one, alighted and turned into the quieter streets, Tibbie, as before, almost running to keep up with her long-legged friend.
They went into Mrs. Darling's by the back door. In the kitchen stood Miss Catherine in a coat with jet spangles and a hat with nodding plumes, pulling on a pair of tight kid gloves.
Tibbie at sight of her hung back, murmuring to Sally, "You didn't tell me! You didn't tell me!"