“I don’t know which I like best, Lafe,” the girl remarked presently, turning to the cobbler, “the red roses or the yellow.”
Bobbie came to Jinnie’s side and fingered the lace.
“Tell me how the dress looks, dear,” he whispered, tugging at her sleeve.
“YOU NEEDN’T FEEL SO GLAD NOR LOOK AS IF YOU WAS GOIN’ TO TUMBLE OVER. IT AIN’T NO CREDIT TO ANYONE THEM CURTAINS WAS ON THE SHELF WAITIN’ TO BE CUT UP IN A DRESS FOR YOU TO FIDDLE IN.”
“Sure,” agreed Jinnie. “Feel right here! Well, that’s a beautiful red rose and here’s a yellow one.” She took his small finger and traced it over a yard of lace. “Feel that?”
“Yes,” murmured Bobbie.
“Well, that’s a green vine running up and down, and all around among the roses.”