They laughed too. What a funny name, and her voice wasn’t at all a squeak. But the name caught their fancy, all the same, and was immediately adopted. Fairy Honeysqueak! Who ever heard anything so absurd, and how the girls giggled. Then Rose told her wish to go to Cranford and meet the little girls of that delightful village.
Honeysqueak thought it an excellent plan. “They are extremely good little girls,” she said, “and I’m sure you couldn’t be in better company. I’ll take you there for tea, which is the proper time to visit in Cranford. Indeed, I think the good ladies have the kettle on the fire already, expecting you. So give me your little paws, and shut your eyes....”
They found themselves walking sedately up a paved street between high walls, over which fell pink and yellow roses, jasmine and ivy. Evidently there had recently been a shower, for the cobbles were shining with wet, while here and there a puddle gleamed. But the sun was out again, and the sky blue above them. No one was to be seen, but they seemed to know where to go, turning to the right at a corner without the slightest hesitation.
Nothing so demure as their two selves had ever met their eyes before. They were dressed in the quaintest little gowns imaginable, made of flowered muslin, with full, ruffled skirts over—yes, actually!—over lace-trimmed pantelettes that were gathered in close to their ankles. Low, heelless slippers with ribbons that crossed behind and tied in front in a tiny bow, and white stockings were on their feet, and in addition they wore odd overshoes with supports under the instep that lifted them nearly a couple of inches above the damp pavement. Clack-clack went these queer things with each step they took.
FOR THERE WAS PETER ON THE DOCTOR’S HORSE, WITH RUTH MOUNTED BEHIND HIM
Snowy white undersleeves of sheer lawn with hemstitching, and tuckers to match completed their gowns, while on their heads were the cutest poke bonnets, tied under the chin with a huge ribbon bow. Their hair was arranged in quantities of curls, which filled in the bonnets all round their cheeks most attractively. Rose’s ribbons were pink, as were the flowers of her printed muslin, and Ruth’s blue, the babiest blue.
They smiled at each other. Each wore mits, and carried a reticule over one arm, a neat parasol being in Rose’s possession.
As they turned a corner they met a boy in long green trousers reaching almost to his ankles and buttoning to an absurd short-waisted coat with a double row of brass buttons down the front and a wide turndown collar. A low, wide-brimmed felt hat was on his head, and a mass of curls hung from under the brim.
“Here you are,” he remarked cheerily. “Mrs. Jenkyns sent me to see if I could find you on the way. Tea is ready, and all the young people are gathered to meet you.”