“Well, so we could,” agreed Tess, catching fire from her sister’s enthusiasm.
“Of course. And shoes——”
“Oh, I know!” Tess cried. “We’d find rushes beside the pond and weave basket-work sandals to wear ‘stead of shoes. And we might weave hats—like the Chinese do. And we’d build ourselves a house, and thatch it all over to keep the rain out—”
Dot had suddenly grown silent and allowed Tess to do all the talking. Tess looked at the smallest Corner House girl quickly. Dot’s lips were puckered into a pout and her dark eyes were filling rapidly.
“What is the matter now, dear?” Tess asked, tenderly.
“Do—don’t let’s talk about it any more,” choked Dot. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
Tragedy stalked into the situation right then and there. They had no more imagination to waste upon the supposed life of a “wild girl.” The principal question was: How were two little girls, fast becoming “wild,” to eat?
They were walking along the road again when Tess suddenly spied something which brought a cry of delight from her lips.
“Look! Look, Dot!” she said. “What’s on those bushes?”
The bushes in question overhung the bank above their heads.